Wormhole Dead Ahead PG13 Version
by TD Master
Summary: Using blue-prints left over from their first attempt, the Dominion is trying to build a second artificial wormhole. Dana is sent in to destroy it.
1. Title and Prologue

Title: Wormhole Dead Ahead (Adult version)

Author: 3D Master

Feedback: 3d.master@chello.nl

Rating: Adult

Keywords: X-Over Star Trek(Deep Space Nine)/Highlander/X-Files. First sequel to Nothingness. Tie ins with Vulcan's Heart and Dominion War book 1 and 3. No reading of the books required, but it will add so much more to the story.

Spoilers: Vulcan's heart

Character Listing: Dana Scully, Dr. McCoy, Duncan MacLeod, Nick Wolfe and a bunch of original characters.

Summery: Using blue-prints left over from their first attempt, the Dominion is trying to build a second artificial wormhole. Dana is sent in to destroy it.

Disclaimer: The character Dana Scully does not belong to me, but to Chris Carter and 1013 productions. Star Trek belongs to Paramount. Highlander to Panzer/Davis Productions.

The other characters belong to me.

  


Author's Notes: Well, I'm back, my first sequel, more to come though. Let's see, is it absolutely necessary to read Nothingness, probably not, but it helps a bunch. I'll thank my Beta readers: Verin Haley, who beta-read right up until and including chapter 8 before he got sucked up by a death in his family (Sorry to hear about that, Verin!), Crys, thanks for the last 4 chapter, and Yvonne. (Sorry, Yvonne, but Crys was faster and can't wait any longer)

And holy ****, well that was unexpected, forget my notes at the beginning of Nothingness. Just got the New Frontier comic book, and guess what? It's a time travel story, and the Excalibur ends up about one and a half years in the future, seeming continuity problem solved. Nothingness still occurs shortly before the Dominion War though. The rest of my ranting you'll find at the end of the story.

  


Wormhole Dead Ahead

  


by 3D Master (3d.master@chello.nl)

  


_Prologue_

  


San Francisco

Starfleet Headquarters

June 2375

  


"Please, sit down, Ambassador," Admiral Stevens asked her.

  


Scully was nervous, damn was she nervous. She had pretty much been taken, although she had come freely, from her apartment and brought here. She had been certain this didn't happen anymore, at least not through official channels; however only a few months ago, she and most of the entire Federation had found out that the Federation Council had ordered the removal of an entire population from their planet for a little radiation that seemed to slow down aging.

  


Stevens showed her his right wrist: a familiar blue tattoo attired it.

  


This was not good. It didn't calm her down at all. Actually it agitated her even more. He knew what she was and that could mean something bad. They had been willing to sacrifice six hundred people, to simply relocate them and dump them somewhere and then destroy an entire planet's ecosystem and all life forms on it, in order to get their hands on a bit of radiation which could potentially improve medicine. The radiation just regenerated cells, and thus slowed down people's aging process, and in older cases, even rejuvenated them down to a certain age . . . but they still aged. If they didn't, their children wouldn't have grown up and the adults would've rejuvenated to infants, or younger than that. They hadn't, so they still aged, albeit agonizingly slow. That was all: when they died, they were dead.

  


What then, were they willing to sacrifice for true immortality? To be able to come back from the dead, that brain dead isn't enough to keep them dead, that when their heart was cut out of their chest, a new one simply grew in its place and they got back up. A lot, Dana knew and not just a lot - some would be willing to sell their souls for that. They definitely wouldn't mind one Immortal in a clutch. Suffice to say Dana was apprehensive and her posture and look in her eyes betrayed that.

  


"You're worried, why?" Admiral Stevens asked, not understanding.

  


Dana answered with just one word, but a word that told so much, "B'Aku."

  


"I see," the Admiral answered, "There are a lot of people, who do not condone those actions Ambassador Scully; I'm one of them."

  


"Then why am I here?" Dana asked not entirely convinced yet, yet her voice was laced with a tinge of intrigue.

  


"I have a mission for you. It requires your special abilities... or rather your lack of the ability to die. And since we know you've stuck your neck out for all of us before, I thought you would be the best choice. So . . . what do you know of the Dominion's artificial wormhole?" Stevens asked her.

  


Dana shrugged and answered, "Found over a year ago, and subsequently destroyed by Picard and some of his crew."

  


"Correct. I don't even wanna know how you got your hands on that classified information," Stevens said and handed her a PADD. "When the Bajoran wormhole closed, they started to rebuild it. It has to be destroyed for good, which means any blueprints they have must be destroyed."

  


Dana studied the PADD and raised one eyebrow, then looked back at the Admiral.

  


"Will you take the mission, Ambassador Scully?" he asked.

  


"I will need a free hand in this, make some improvements, as I see fit," Dana answered him.

  


"You got it," Admiral Stevens said, offering a hand, which Dana took. "Welcome aboard, Captain Scully."


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

  


Space near the Cardassian/Dominion border

Early July 2375

  


"Hey, Kovar," Hans Papen whispered to the Vulcan in his Dutch accent.

  


"Yes," Kovar answered coolly, looking out the main screen of the Runabout Ulysses.

  


"Have you noticed anything strange about this 'diplomatic' mission?" Hans answered emphasizing the word 'diplomatic' with a disbelieving tone.

  


"As strange as any diplomatic mission at war time close to enemy territory," Kovar once again answered neutrally, this time looking down at his navigation controls.

  


Hans grinned in anticipation of what he had to tell. "You and I've been part of the crew of the Defiant that went behind enemy lines in the Dominion ship, the admiral has been head of the project to research it, the engineer was chief engineer on that project. Kovar, I've been doing some 'research': of the twenty-five people on board this runabout, the doctor, the Andorian over there," Hans pointed to back and right with his thumb, "and the Ambassador are the only three people I can't readily link to the Dominion ship. The others all had some contact with it."

  


Kovar just looked at him and lifted his right eyebrow. Hans grinned. "Just think of it: we're going to a planet that has expressed desires to join the Dominion, since they're the ones who seem to be winning the war, they said. We're going there in order to convince them to stay with the Federation, and we're going there in a small Runabout, with a Federation ambassador and an Admiral without an escort, skimming the Dominion/Cardassian border. How much more lure do you want for them to get us?"

  


"Ensign Papen, please refrain from speculations," Admiral Ventura said as he positioned himself in the middle of the cockpit.

  


"Well, am I right?" Hans asked, an eager and mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  


"No, you are not correct. I'm sure they would have told me about such an undertaking and they have not. And even if there would be such an undertaking, and if even I didn't know about it, wouldn't you think it is a distinct possibility that its success depends upon us not knowing anything? If that would be the case, you're busy sabotaging it," the admiral answered.

  


"I get it," Hans said, turning back to the helm console.

  


"Admiral?" Scully asked, walking into the cockpit.

  


"Yes, Ambassador?" the admiral answered.

  


"How long before we're at Bodus?" she asked, letting annoyance creep into her voice.

  


"Another four hours, Ambassador," Ventura answered.

  


"Four hours!?" Dana asked, faking outrage. Ventura nodded and she muttered out loud as she turned around to go back to the rear portion of the craft, "For the life of me, I can't think of any reason why they crammed twenty-five people in such a small craft on a twelve-hour flight. I'll be ecstatic when I finally get out of this fish can."

  


"Well . . . one thing's for sure; if this is a secret mission, she doesn't know about it," Hans told the other three people in the cockpit.

  


"Ensign!?" the Admiral said sternly.

  


"Yeah, yeah," Hans answered him and once again turned back to his console.

  


Scully had heard him on her way out and a grin crept up her face, a grin she rapidly suppressed and her annoyed mask once again returned to her face. She went to the common room and placed herself on a chair.

  


*****

  


About a quarter of an hour later it happened.

  


"Red Alert, everybody to battle stations, Dominion Warship on intercept course, intercept in two minutes!" the Admiral's voice came over the intercom as red warning lights started flashing and everybody scurried off.

  


Scully, however, stayed put. She couldn't do anything to help - didn't want to, either - and she needed to do something herself. She slowed her breathing, put herself in a meditative trance and focused on her energy output, the energy that every cell in her body put out, and with it the energy field that surrounded her body. She tuned it down, less and less: this was one time where the protection was not wanted.

  


She brought herself out the trance and noticed that the Runabout was lurching. She concluded that the ship must've been lurching while she was in the trance, but the trance had blocked the impressions. Another lurch and then nothing.

  


"They've got us in a tractor beam," she heard a voice from somewhere and then felt the familiar tingle of a transporter beam.

  


*****

  


Once her vision returned, she noticed she was standing in an open transporter room, hallways leading east, west and south, the walls were black. The other twenty-four persons from the runabout were there as well and there were eleven Jem'Hadar, one behind the transporter and ten holding weapons trained at them.

  


*Perfect, and as simulated,* Scully thought grinning slightly as she wiggled herself to the front of the group. *Psychological intimidation: lead them at gunpoint to the holding cells, not beam them directly there.*

  


"Resist in any way and you die; cooperate and you live," the leader of Jem'Hadar said gruffly, as he positioned himself in front of the group. "Understood?"

  


A few of them nodded, others just looked at him defiantly.

  


Dana did neither. Once she was in front of the group and in front of the Jem'Hadar leader, she did a fast snap kick to his nose, which, with a satisfying crush, slammed into his brain. He crumbled to the floor - dead. Dana ran toward one of the open corridors. A second Jem'Hadar, standing close to that door, came into action. He made a downward motion - trying to hit her with the rifle - which made Dana's job easier. She hooked her right arm under his right, turning her back to him at the same time and threw him over her shoulder, using his own momentum against him. She didn't let him go and he landed on his butt right in front of him. With a quick movement, she snapped his neck.

  


The second Jem'Hadar, standing near the corridor, snapped out of his surprise and moving toward her. She sensed him and turned backwards in a quick kick to his stomach, making sure to hit the particular weak spot she had found the week before, while examining Jem'Hadar autopsies. Her right foot returned from under his still bent over body and her left propelled her in the air, jumping over the soldier's back. While landing on her right foot beside him, She let her left heel crash on the lower part of his back close to his right side. The vital organ beneath it collapsed under the pressure and the Jem'Hadar collapsed to the floor, dying painfully as blood welled up from his mouth.

  


Now the way to the corridor was free and she ran in it, fast.

  


*Come on,* she thought to herself, *fast, but not too fast. The hits should come about . . .* She never finished the thought, as double shots from the remaining Jem'Hadar soldiers hit in her back: all within half a second. The first six barely did anything; the next four weakened her protective field severely; the eleventh and twelfth broke through it completely; the last two burned her insides and fried every synapse in her brain instantly. She was dead, before she even hit the ground.

  


The Jem'Hadar turned back to the Starfleet personnel, who were shocked either from Scully's swift, violent and highly effective attack, or by the equally swift, violent and highly effective attack of Jem'Hadar and her subsequent death. A few of them, who had been at the front lines and had seen enough death, only looked more grim and defiant.

  


The new leader of the Jem'Hadar said, "Now you know we are serious. Move." As the Starfleet personnel started moving in the desired direction, he signaled to the transporter operator to get rid of the mess.

  


*****

  


Dana's eyes flew open in pitch darkness. For a hundredth of a second she felt panic rise because she didn't know where she was. Remembrance came almost as instantaneously and she forced herself not to give in to the urge to gasp loudly for breath. Instead she slowly drew in the air through her nose. She prodded the container on all sides: rectangle. Then she gently pushed against what was, to her, the back wall with her feet: it wouldn't give.

  


*So far so good,* she thought. *Unless they locked it, my head comes out first.*

  


She pushed and the door gave gently. She opened it just enough to see the morgue of the ship. She grinned as she peered though the crack. Genetically engineered species made just for war; effective, but their single mindedness made predictable. They performed autopsies on a vanquished foe and found out their weaknesses and strengths so they could vanquish more. No infirmary and no healing apparatuses on the ship, but a morgue, yes. And of course, as expected, they had brought her here. She saw a Jem'Hadar soldier and a Vorta going about their business.

  


She slipped the slab closed again, concentrated on the sounds they made and the energy fields their bodies gave off through their cells. Then she knocked on the inside of her metal coffin.

  


"What was that?" she heard in her head. The translator in her communicator did its job, projecting the translation, as it always did, directly onto the neural pathways of the hearing center in her brain.

  


*What twentieth century 'Manchurian Candidate' technology isn't good for,* she thought to herself wryly. She made the sound again.

  


"It came from on of the slabs," she heard again, then footsteps coming closer.

  


*Wait . . . wait for it,* she thought to herself, *just a little further . . . now.* She suddenly made her slab move rapidly outward. From the look of the stunned faces of the two of them, she knew they would never be able to react in time. She pounced of the slab, curling her legs around the neck of the Jem'Hadar and her arms around the neck of the other Humanoid at her head. With a quick motion, the scientist's neck broke and he crumpled to the floor. The momentum brought down the Jem'Hadar as well, aligning him perfectly for her to snap his neck with her legs, which she promptly did.

  


They crashed to the floor and she stopped moving. She laid there for twenty seconds, listening intently: no rushing footsteps, no alarms. Nobody had noticed anything, but they could if she didn't hurry. So she got up and first put the scientist - as fast as possible without making sound - on her slab and closed it. Then she opened another one and with some difficulty, due to his size and the lack of a place to get good leverage, got the Jem'Hadar soldier on it and closed it. She checked the time on her now antique watch, twenty-one minutes, then picked up the Jem'Hadar's rifle and briefly spent time to look through the room. She was glad she did, for she swiftly found her sword. She picked it up and admired its smooth blade for an instant while thinking, *They must simply have dragged me along by the arms, and not found it until they arrived here. Good, now I don't have to rummage through this entire ship to look for it later.*

  


She put her katana back in her coat in its familiar place. Then she quickly walked to the other side of the small room and searched. *Maintenance shaft access should be . . . here!* she thought and quickly opened the hatch and crept inside swiftly, but silently, and closed the hatch behind her. She crept through the maze of maintenance shafts, called jefferies tubes in Federation starships. Left, right, straight and not making a sound. She had studied the layout intensely before the mission, and had plotted the fastest route. She came to the elevator shaft. There were only two decks on a Dominion warship and she climbed upward to deck one and the bridge. As every Jem'Hadar was already back at its station, chances were they wouldn't ride it, and even if they did, there was enough room between the elevator and the shaft to allow people to climb there and effect repairs, should it become necessary.

  


Once on deck one, she shifted from the maintenance shafts to the ventilation tubes and went straight to the bridge. She found the air intake/outlet easily: it was closed and it was pointing downwards. With a mighty push, the grate gave away and she slithered down right behind it, hooking her feet behind the edge. Now she was hanging upside down looking toward the forward part of the ship, the Jem'Hadar and the Vorta on the bridge all looked stunned. She started firing, as she twisted her body slowly in an arc, from left to right, firing rapidly and taking out the Jem'Hadar behind the consoles on by one. Eventually she couldn't turn further. By now the Jem'Hadar left had overcome their surprise, grabbed a rifle and started firing at her: most of them were behind her, which were really just three of them taking cover behind a cylindrical console.

  


A door opened directly behind her and three guards came through it, instantly defining her as the threat, and started shooting at her. Dana noticed the shots landing in front of her or beside her. She released her feet from the edge and twisted herself in a salto, getting herself in the right direction. She fired at the new entries and they died quickly, before she even landed, since they were still close together and partially in the door frame. She landed and started walking towards the middle and left side of the bridge. A Jem'Hadar came up behind a console, fired rapidly at her, and ducked back behind it. He hit her, but she barely even felt the impact, her Quickening once again brought back to full while she was 'dead'. A second Jem'Hadar shot from behind another console, but his shot went wide. She didn't even look at him; she kept her rifle trained exactly above the console from which the first came and when he came back up again, she fired a quick volley, dispatching him to kingdom come. Then she turned to where the third soldier was and shot him as well. She started pushing buttons on one of the consoles with her left hand, while pointing the rifle at the place of the second with her right. She concentrated and felt his equivalent of adrenaline level rise, the electrical signals shooting from his brain to his legs, the change in his electrical field as his muscles tightened in order to move up . . . and she pulled the trigger again, not even bothering to look at him. She released the trigger as she heard his grunt of pain and him drop to the floor.

  


A new sound could be heard and another few Jem'Hadar came up into the bridge, this time through the left doors. She looked in their direction and started firing. Sounds of Jem'Hadar could also be heard from the right door. Her left hand kept tapping a few seconds more and she then took it off the console as the bridge doors started to close and lock. Two Jem'Hadar had managed to get through the right door alive, two others had not been so lucky, they were lying dead on the floor. The ones alive fired at her as the door closed behind them, cutting off the tips of the fingers of the Jem'Hadar soldier that was trying to keep it open. At the same time a loud scream could be heard from the right side and behind her. Dana ducked and grabbed a second rifle from the dead Jem'Hadar at her feet, came back up and fired them both relaxed and exactly at the two Jem'Hadar soldiers; they went down easily.

  


She felt a few shots hit her in the back; she barely felt them, just a few quick, but sharp, pulses of pain. She turned around relaxed and counted: three more Jem'Hadar, one with no left hand. A quick glance at the door, covered with some flesh and streams of blood, confirmed that he'd lost it trying to get through it. She walked forward decisively, the rifles pointed at one of them. As soon as he popped out from behind a console, she fired and killed him. Then she turned to the second Jem'Hadar. She got hit three times as the third one, with only one hand, shot at her.

  


"Don't you get it yet? Your weapons have no effect on me," Dana said. She shot the second soldier as he popped up and shot two pulses of energy past her. His head splattered apart all over the console and the black wall behind him. Then she turned to the third, who opted not to hide, but simply to stand, aim and shoot. She looked at him, letting him take a few shots: all hit, but none took her out.

  


"You should set it to continuous fire," Dana said, grinning evilly at him and pointing both rifles directly at him. "Oh wait," she added sarcastically, "it doesn't have continuous fire." And she pulled the triggers.

  


The grin quickly faded from her face and she walked over to a different console. She placed the rifles on the edge of it. She grabbed a head set and put it on, looking for an instant through the screen that projected an image directly in her retina using lasers of stars streaking by. She heard the pounding on the doors caused by phaser fire and decided to speed up. She quickly tapped a few buttons and brought the ship quickly out of warp and to a stop, not wanting it to go too far. Then she started working on something else, hoping that the sequence of instructions she had learned right before the mission was correct. The symbols on the screen seemed to conform they were, but she didn't have the time to find the correct sequence on her own, if the one she learned turned out to be wrong. The Jem'Hadar could break through the door any minute now.

  


"There," she said and tapped the final button. The Vorta, the Jem'Hadar, and all the blood and guts disappeared off the bridge in a transporter beam, as did any Vorta and Jem'Hadar, dead or alive, elsewhere in the ship. She looked through the screen on her headset and saw them all flailing in deep space. She walked to the weapons console, targeted, and fired. In the screen a bright, white beam cut through space and vaporized the bodies of the former Dominion crew. The whisks of gaseous molecules that were once their bodies quickly dispersed in the emptiness of space and no visible trace was left of them.

  


She went back to another console, tapped a few buttons and the doors were unlocked. Then she laid in a course for the nearby badlands and engaged at Warp 7.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

  


*All right,* Dana thought grabbing one of the rifles, *let's get them out of the brig.*

  


She walked of the bridge and took the lift down. Once down she stepped out and made her way toward engineering. Ten meters down the corridor, she felt something. She concentrated and turned a full circle. There was definitely something or somebody there - the EM field was now clearly readable to Dana. In fact she wondered why she hadn't felt it before, since it was very strong. Then it tuned down again to a low hum. She opened her eyes, and looked at the ominous black interior of the ship. The eerie silence prevailed.

  


Dana turned right, the gentle feeling of an organic energy field nearby slowly increasing in strength. Dana waited and looked at the rifle, then she put it down against the wall and continued on her way. She rounded another corner, into an empty corridor. She stopped and drew her katana from the inside of her coat.

  


"I know you're here. I know you've changed yourself in part of the corridor, so don't bother hiding," Dana said calmly. Inside however she wasn't so calm; this meant trouble, big trouble: the minute this ship went missing, every Dominion ship in the vicinity would come looking for it.

  


Part of the ceiling, floor and walls changed their texture, becoming an orange liquid that slithered to the middle of the corridor, where it started rising in cone-like shape. Once the orange liquid left the wall, the same wall was revealed behind it. Slowly the cone changed in a Humanoid shape and soon a male founder stood there. "How did you know I was there?"

  


"I can sense electromagnetic fields," Dana explained coolly, "especially organic ones. It's like a warning system. You can change yourself into anything you want to, but a small part must always stay the same, or you would no longer be who you are. I can detect that."

  


"I see. How many more are there, with your ability?" the founder asked coolly. Dana knew the cool tone was just a facade.

  


"You would like me to tell how many and where you can find them, right?" Dana asked, as cool as he. "Eliminate them all, so you can keep hiding among us?"

  


"Of course, but I've got a feeling you won't cooperate. Am I right?" the changeling asked, still icily.

  


"You're correct, I won't. Mostly because I don't know how many and where they exactly are," Dana answered him.

  


"Tell me something. When I suggested this, the others, founders or otherwise, didn't believe me. The moral Federation would never do such a thing. They were thinking about the Klingons maybe, most likely the Romulans. But it is the Federation who created the virus, didn't it?" the founder asked, knowing full well that if the person he was talking to knew about it she wouldn't tell him, but most likely she didn't know about it at al. He was shocked by the answer.

  


"Yes, we did. Or more accurately, one specific section in Starfleet Intelligence did. It's called Section 31. Only a handful of people know about it, or what they do; the members have no identity, officially they're or dead or never born. The rest of the Federation would condemn what they did, if they knew what they did and that they even existed," Dana said chillingly, then asked, "Are you infected with it?"

  


"I am, but I haven't shown any of the symptoms yet. I was one of the last to be infected. You're quite talkative. Aren't you betraying your precious Federation now?" the changeling sneered at her.

  


"What does it matter what you know? You're dead in a few minutes anyway," Dana answered him nonchalantly.

  


"Confident, overconfident. Do you know where Section 31 is and can you get in?" the changeling asked her, figuring she was one of them.

  


"I know where it is, but nobody who doesn't belong there gets in. Not even one of you," Dana told him.

  


"You're not an operative of this 'Section 31'?" the founder asked astonished.

  


"No, I'm the one who founded it," Dana answered him with a small smirk on her face. The founder looked even more astonished and completely confused and not understanding at all. "Look," Dana decided to continue, "this is a nice conversation and all, but I've got an artificial wormhole to destroy. So let's cut this conversation short, shall we?" Dana raised her sword in a ready position and advanced on him. He didn't move and she sliced her katana through him, from his right shoulder to his left hip, she wasn't surprised that he was still standing, without even showing a hint that it even mildly bothered him.

  


"Arrogant, little bitch," the founder said as his left arm became a tentacle and wrapped itself around Dana's throat. As he lifted her of the floor and started squeezing her neck, he continued his sentence, "Did you really think you could kill me that easily? Personally I think you're in luck. Since you've already told what I wanted know, I've decided to kill you. If you hadn't, I had left you to the Cardassians to extract it out of you."

  


While he said this, Dana had grabbed the tentacle around her neck instinctively with both hands, dropping her sword. She tried to get it off, but it didn't work, her face went red and she was gasping for air. And after about thirty seconds her body went limp in the Changeling's tentacle.

  


The changeling dropped her and thought to himself, as he stepped over her body and started to walk toward the bridge, *Stupid solid. She just told what I wanted to know. Now we know what to look for, it's only a matter of time before we find this 'Section 31' and the cure.* And then he stopped dead in his tracks in shock, for behind him he heard her standing up and picking up her sword as her voice pierced the silence.

  


"You arrogant, stupid asshole. Did you actually think that if I could die that easily, I would come after you with nothing more but a sword? Especially since I have access to every weapon in this ship," Scully hissed at him, an almost mad look in her eye. She had decided to find out, what it would take to kill one of them and she was determined to find out.

  


The founder, in the mean time, had turned around and looked at her, completely astonished. "You . . . you . . . you're dead . . ." he stammered at her.

  


"I know, I've been dead for four hundred years," Scully said in a grim tone. Then she ran at him. Right in front him, she jumped in a pirouette. Her sword went into him and she quickly pirouetted straight through the changeling; the outward force was larger than the central directed force of the changeling and globs of his orange body splashed all over the place. When she landed, she looked around at the globs of liquid body, and then she saw them rapidly turn to dust, leaving only a sand-like substance. She wiped the dust from her body; it crumbled easily to the floor. The EM field was now no longer present. Dana walked around the corner as she re-sheathed her sword. Behind the corner she picked up her rifle and continued her way toward engineering.

  


Once she reached engineering, she looked around and found what she was looking for at the place where it should be: an industrial replicator. She ordered what she needed - a thick metal plate - she placed it on the floor, then shot at it with her rifle. After a few shots at close range the plate looked like the surface of the moon. Dana smiled in satisfaction, picked up the plate of metal, and put it under her clothes on her back. The ambassadorial and long coat covered it up nicely.

  


*Next stop: brig,* Dana thought to herself as she started walking briskly in the right direction. *That damn founder messed up the time table severely.*

  


*****

  


"Heilig gesodemieter!" Hans cursed in his native language as he looked out the force field toward the entrance to the brig area. "Claudia, Kovar, come here and tell me I'm not going insane."

  


"You're not going insane, Hans," Claudia said teasingly as she turned back toward him, "you already are!"

  


"Ha, ha, very funny," Hans answered her dryly. "I'm serious."

  


Claudia and Kovar walked toward him and looked out the force field. Claudia's jaw dropped and Kovar's right eye brow shot up.

  


"That's . . . that's . . ." Claudia said disbelieving.

  


"That is the ambassador," Kovar stated coolly for her. From the mutters and sounds from the other holding cells, they could tell the others had noticed her too.

  


"Yes, but if I remember correctly, she was shot dead, not forty-five minutes ago," Hans told him.

  


"It appears our eyes deceived us," Kovar once again said without a hint of emotion.

  


The force field dropped and they stepped out of the holding cell, as did the ones in the other holding cells. The first question on everybody's lips was, "How did you . . . ?"

  


Dana raised her hands, showing they should be silent. Once they were, she explained, "I can slow down al my vital signs. Unless you make a very thorough check, you'll think I'm dead. During that time I can heal far faster as normal . . . "

  


"But that still doesn't explain why you're not dead," Admiral Ventura answered, as Kovar nodded in understanding. Many Vulcans had that ability, including him.

  


"I wasn't finished yet, if you would let me speak," Dana told him sternly, looking him straight in the eye. Then she turned back to the twenty-four people and continued, grabbing under her clothes at her back, "As I was saying, I was wearing this." The inch thick, charred, metal plate clanged to the floor as she grinned at them. Smiles crept up the others' faces as the supposed facts sank in.

  


Dana cut the euphoria off, before more precious time lost celebrating. "All right, listen up. The ship's clean, no more Dominion crew are left. Except for our friendly neighborhood Andorian over there - you're with me - you should all know which positions you should fill. So let's move. Get to your positions; I'll brief you once we're where we should be."

  


They walked out of the bridge, each to their respective station. Dana, Kovar, Admiral Ventura, the Andorian, and a female Lieutenant went toward the bridge.

  


"Admiral, for the duration of this mission, I and Commander Makai outrank you," Dana told Admiral John Ventura. "That means, if I'm not present or killed, the Commander still is in command, get it?"

  


"Understood, captain. Essentially for the duration of this mission, I'm demoted to Lieutenant Commander," the Admiral answered her.

  


"Good, you understand," Dana said neutrally, then turned to Commander Makai. "Do you understand what it means?"

  


"I don't need to take crap from the admiral during this mission," the blue skinned commander Makai answered with a grin and raised eyebrows.

  


"Essentially correct," Dana answered as the lift opened on the bridge. She stepped out, Kovar took navigation, Hans went straight to helm controls, Admiral Ventura took tactical, and the female took the damage control/science station. Dana grabbed one head set and tossed it toward Makai. While he put his on, Dana grabbed the second head set and put it on her own head, then moved the screen up so she didn't have to look in it yet.

  


"Ensign, are we still on course toward the Badlands?" Dana asked.

  


"Yes, ma'am," Hans answered professionally, "course directly toward the Badlands."

  


"Good," Dana said, as she pushed the intercom button. "All right people, listen up. What you're about to hear is classified, so once we get back you don't talk about it with anyone, not even someone who's with us now, understood?" Acknowledging sounds came from the other side.

  


"Well then; Starfleet Intelligence has found evidence that the Dominion is building an artificial wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant," Dana paused and saw alarmed looks on the faces on the bridge and murmurs of dread coming from the intercom. "Our mission's primary objective is to destroy this wormhole, which, according to intelligence reports, is nearing completion. Our mission's secondary objective is to implant a virus in the Dominion's computer system which will delete all references to the artificial wormhole, including its blueprints. The wormhole was designed by a Trill Federation scientist, who died, while helping to destroy the first artificial wormhole. Any questions?"

  


"What is the plan?" Admiral Ventura asked.

  


Dana grinned at him. "We hijack a Dominion warship. That done we find the wormhole, fly up to it - without them knowing it's us - and then we destroy it. Afterwards we find a way to release the virus in the Dominion and Cardassian computer networks."

  


"Great plan," the female behind the science console muttered sarcastically.

  


"I thought so, or I wouldn't be standing here," Dana answered her, grinning.

  


"No more questions? Goo-" Scully was about to conclude when the doctor's voice came through the intercom.

  


"Yeah, I have a question. Doctor Marcus here. It's more of a statement really. I can't seem to find the sickbay on this ship."

  


"That's because there is no sickbay on this ship, Doctor Marcus. You can either use the morgue or try to convert one of the living quarters into one," Dana answered.

  


"Bashir chose the last option, Doctor, if you want to know what a doctor chose with some more time to make a decision," Hans piped in, as he looked back, he received a appreciative, yet deeply disapproving glare from Dana. He decided to add, "Sorry. In the future I'll ask permission to give advice."

  


"Was that all, Doctor?" Dana asked, forcing Hans to turn around with just one look. Kovar's eyebrow raised as he watched his friend's uncharacteristic behavior, and the ease with which the captain kept him in check.

  


A deep sigh came from the intercom, then Marcus' businesslike voice saying, "I guess that'll have to do. I'll inform you when I can start receiving patients. I would be much obliged if you could refrain from sending any until that time. Marcus out."

  


Dana smiled briefly, then ordered, "Engineering, start examining every inch of this ship. I want it combed. Report anything out of the ordinary immediately, and send someone to find our communicators, this intercom is irritating. I'm expecting your full report in two hours."

  


"Yes, sir," a male voice reached her ears.

  


"Captain, we've reached the Badlands," Hans told her.

  


"All right, Ensign, drop out of warp and ease us in there, then set course for Sector 283 and get us there as fast as possible without blowing us all to kingdom come," Dana told him.

  


"Yes, ma'am," Ensign Papen acknowledged.

  


"Anything on sensors, Lieutenant Palermo?" Dana said, turning her head to the science console.

  


"Only plasma, dust, and energy, sir. Everything you'd expect from the Badlands," the female science officer answered.

  


"Good, notify me of any change," Dana told her.

  


"Captain?" a voice came over the intercom.

  


Dana sighed, walked back a few paces, and pushed the intercom button. "Yes, commander?"

  


"Captain, we've done an internal sensor sweep first and we found our Runabout in cargo hold two," the chief engineer's voice told her.

  


"I'll be there in a minute, be there," Dana ordered him. A smirk crept up her face.

  


"We're already on our way," the engineer told her.

  


She pulled her finger of the intercom button and was prepared to leave the bridge, when Ensign Papen interrupted, "Captain?"

  


Dana turned toward him and said, "Yes, Ensign."

  


"One question; I've been thinking, what are our odds?" Hans asked.

  


Dana took a few steps closer to him and said, grinning ferally at him, "The chances of us succeeding in the primary objective are 96.73%, chances of us succeeding and surviving are 1.56%, chances of succeeding and surviving the secondary objective as well are .033%."

  


"In other words; this is a suicide mission," Hans stated. "They don't expect us to do the secondary objective, do they?"

  


"No, they're expecting to have to send in a second team to finish the job," Dana told him.

  


"Great, just great," Hans said. Dana looked around and saw the others looking a bit paler, except Kovar and Makai. The last looked a bit more yellowish.

  


Dana put her hand reassuringly on Hans' shoulder. He looked up at her smiling face. "Don't worry," she said, then spoke louder to all the people on the bridge. "I've always got a backup plan, and if it's in anyway possible, my backup plan will have a backup plan. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go tend to those backup plans." And then Dana walked of the bridge remembering a different time.

  


~~X~~


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

  


May 21, 2157

Washington, D.C.

New Pentagon

  


"All the nations are already working together in order to repel the Romulan threat, but it's not enough. They outnumber us," the Australian general stated.

  


"Correct," the African general added. "The African Union has been seeing that problem as well. We must build more ships faster."

  


"We could build ships without Warp Drive. The Romulans don't have it, so that would not give us any disadvantage," the French admiral representing the European Union stated.

  


Murmurs of approval and acceptance spread through the room.

  


"Wrong!" came Dana's stern and powerful voice. It boomed through the room filled with military and intelligence operatives. "The Romulans do have warp drive."

  


"What?!" some military operatives asked incredulously. A few Intelligence operatives were surprised as well, but much less than the military.

  


"It is something we have suspected . . . well, essentially known, since the beginning of the war a few months back," General Berman head of the CIA answered. "You see Romulus is approximately 60 light-years away which means, that if they had gotten here at only sub-light speeds, their ships would've been obsolete after just a sixth of their journey. It is something we found suspicious. Not only that, but they seem to be able to refuel and rearm themselves rather quickly and seemingly indefinitely. You can't do that with a few resupply ships. The Romulans would need to go back to their home planet, and they can't do that without a warp drive."

  


"If they had warp drive," the Argentinean General cut in, "why don't they use it against us?"

  


"Because," Dana interrupted, "they want us to do exactly what you were proposing: eliminate warp drive from our ships, then lure us about fifteen light-minutes away from Earth. They go to warp, and are at an unprotected Earth in less then a few seconds. They could blow us away, while our fleet would need fifteen minutes to return to Earth."

  


"Are you certain about this?" the American general asked.

  


"Show 'em, Colonel Dahmer," General Berman said.

  


Dana stood up and walked to a screen and pushed a button. It changed to a picture of the distinctive characteristics of a warp field moving out of the solar system on a course for Romulus. "Our intelligence satellite around Pluto picked this up. As you can clearly see, this shows a warp field moving out of our solar system at approximately Warp 3. It is on a direct heading for Romulus." Dana pushed a few buttons and now the bubble expanded, and then the insides of it became visible. Dana continued, "The satellite has recently been upgraded with sub-space sensors, a recent innovation. It allows us to see what's inside a warp field. As you can see, this warp field contains a Romulan heavy carrier, apparently on its way back for refueling, rearming and repairs. This is taken one week ago."

  


The murmurs were not very inspiring as the truth sank in.

  


"We think it's best," General Berman said, raising his voice so all attention was on him, "to keep this information classified to the highest degree. As far as we are concerned the Romulans have no warp drive. It will help keep up morale: we have warp drive, they do not. It is something the people can grasp to. We have superior technology, we will win. Add to that the fact that projections have shown that the Romulans are on an equal level of technology with us might seriously demoralize the troops."

  


Nods and murmurs of acceptation went through the room.

  


"Good, that's settled. This information will remain classified. Now on to more important things," General Berman said. The rest of the group of admirals and generals from all over the seemed surprised at the sudden take over of the meeting by Berman. "Colonel, would you please," he told Dana.

  


Dana pushed a few buttons and the screen switched to a frightening sight. "These are images of the same satellite, complemented with images of other satellites. As you can see the Romulans are amassing their fleet right outside our solar system," Dana said. The images showed a few warp trails going toward the amassing fleet, who then disappeared as the ships dropped out of warp. "These images," Dana continued, seriously as she looked around the mostly white room at the people attending, "were taken three days ago." Dana pushed a button and screen changed. "Two days ago. Yesterday. Four hours ago," Dana said as she showed each stage. "As you can see, the fleet is moving on a direct course for Earth, they will arrive somewhere tomorrow morning, 0600 hours."

  


"Oh, my God!" came several replies.

  


"Calm down," the voice of General Berman cut through the scared voices. "We need to focus. We've come up with a plan."

  


"This better be a good one," someone said with a hint of fear in his voice. Then all became silent.

  


General Berman took the opportunity. "We retreat all our vessels back to Earth and fight it out here, one battle with all our ships present. This should be a battle we could win, and give a decisive blow to the Romulans."

  


"Their course is awfully close to Mars. If they find out we left it unprotected, don't you think they would try to destroy the colony and anything there?" the South American general asked.

  


"No," Dana answered him, stepping a little forward emphasizing that what she had to say was important. "The Romulans will go deeper in our solar system than any time before and they're coming for Earth. They won't go to Mars, because Mars still has planetary defense systems. If they concentrate on that and we then go from Earth to Mars, which is a distance quite quickly traversed, they'll be locked in a two front battle."

  


"And then there is this. Colonel?" the general said, giving a quick nod to Dana.

  


Dana stepped back to the screen and pushed a few buttons. "Behold: the Utopia Planitia Shipyards. It is hidden to almost all of our sensors. Unless you know exactly where to look, you wouldn't find it. It was finished approximately two months ago; there are ninety-thousand crew on board, and forty-thousand crew members working day and night. It has finished one carrier, two carriers' worth of fighter craft and fifteen Christopher-class attack ships. A second carrier should be ready in about one week and could be sent out now in case of an emergency. We'll no longer be outnumbered five to one, but between two to one and three to one. We won't abandon Mars completely. If the Romulans decide to attack Mars they'll find it less easy to destroy than they thought. When this happens the fleet at Earth can get to Mars and attack. If the Romulans don't take the opportunity and keep on going to Earth, which is the most likely, then ships at Mars will come to Earth. Either way, we'll box the Romulans in."

  


After another half hour everybody had agreed with the plan and returned to their bases in to relay the information to their people. Ships started returning to Earth within the hour.

  


*****

  


"Colonel," the General asked as they walked through a corridor of the Pentagon toward their offices.

  


"Yes, sir?" Dana answered the general.

  


"'You ready to go?" General Berman answered.

  


"Yes, sir. The people we selected are ready to go. They've been given the orders to prepare to ship out when ordered," Dana answered the general.

  


"You're certain about this . . . backup plan?" Berman said camouflaging what he knew.

  


"Absolutely, sir. Remember, I did something similar before and back then I had no backup plan - I was scared shitless - one teensy weensy mistake," Dana visually aided 'teensy weensy' by putting her right index finger and thumb almost against each other, "and all would come tumbling down. From then on, I vowed I would always have a backup plan."

  


"That's not what I meant," Berman said, giving her meaningful look.

  


"Oh . . . as I've assured you before, the sources I've found are absolutely trustworthy," Dana assured him again with a smile, while adding silently to herself, *since they are my own memories, I would consider them quite so.*

  


"Good, so how's your daughter, Shane?" the general asked, smiling back at her.

  


"Good, she's doing well in school, and she's not a pain in the ass to the baby-sitter . . . unless the baby-sitter is lying of course," Dana answered him, smiling a proud mother's smile coupled with a little smirk of mischief on her face.

  


*****

  


The next day

4:30 AM

Dreamland 2

  


"Welcome gentleman," Dana said to the five who had gone with her as they stood within the gates. "Welcome to Area 674 in Utah. Welcome to Dreamland 2."

  


"I don't see anything," one of them said, holding his hand above his eyes against the rising sun. It was early and the sun was just peaking above the horizon of the barren landscape, but it was bright nonetheless.

  


"You're not supposed to see anything," Dana said to him, grinning. "The base is built inside the mountain."

  


The guy lifted his eyebrows disbelieving, as he looked at the mountain.

  


"Come on," Dana ordered them with a wave of her hand and they followed her. Once they reached the mountain, she told them, "Two of you go right, the other three left. Try to find anything unusual; buttons, card slits, etc." The two CIA operatives and three army men did as she told them. She herself waited for about thirty seconds, then walked directly to the entrance. She rapped her knuckles twice on the face of the rock, then rubbed her hand over it and a small panel slid aside. She looked left and right, to make sure the others weren't coming back or looking at her. Then she fumbled her keycard from a pocket in her clothes and slid it inside the slit meant for it. Then she pushed her four number pin code and the panel came to life, letters scrolled across a small screen: 'Please state: rank, name, and password.'

  


"General Brown, Samantha, password: Trojan Horse," Dana said to the panel.

  


New letters scrolled across the small screen: 'Name and password accepted, please hold eye in front of camera.'

  


Dana put her eye in front of the small round glass dot, which was a camera. The circuitry inside the camera scanned her iris, then it compared it with the iris on file.

  


New letters scrolled onto the screen: 'Access granted.' Then a click and a rock faced door opened a little to the left.

  


"Go to full operational status, authorization Brown, Samantha, Fifty-four, Delta, New York, Niner," Dana said into the panel.

  


Again letters: 'Password accepted: full operational status will limit security. Access requires only keycard. Are you sure you wish to proceed?'

  


"Yes," Dana told the panel and the rock once again slid closed. A different panel opened on the other side of the door, this one containing only a card slot.

  


"I found it!" Dana yelled at the others as she closed the door. The four men and one woman came running back quickly.

  


Dana slid her keycard inside the card reader, while saying out loud, "Let's hope the keycard still works." After she inserted the card, the door she had just closed once again opened to omit access to the Dreamland 2 complex.

  


*****

  


After they had walked through the complex for a few minutes - Dana deliberately didn't walk straight to the command center - the female, Marinda Doyle, asked, "What the hell is this place, anyway?"

  


"Classified," Dana answered, then looked at her, "and it stays that way."

  


Finally they reached the command center and Dana ordered, after turning on the lights, "Go check out the systems, communications are a priority."

  


"Yes, sir," the five answered and they went to work.

  


Dana positioned herself behind a console and typed in the following words, 'Initiate all weapons' platform satellites'.

  


The screen showed the following:

  


'Initiating weapons' platform satellites.'

'Finding Plasma-ball Platforms..............26 of 30 responding.'

'Finding Laser Platforms.................24 of 30 responding.'

'Finding Nuclear Platforms.............all responding.'

'Checking intermediate time...122 years.'

'Performing safety checks, Plasma-ball Platforms................check.'

'Performing safety checks, Laser Platforms.............check.'

'Performing safety checks, Nuclear Platforms............. ....................check.'

'Powering up Plasma-ball Platforms........97% responding...rerouting power in platform 17....done...all available Plasma-ball Platforms powered up.'

'Powering up Laser platforms..........88% responding...rerouting power in platform 28.......rerouting power in platform 22........... unresponsive...rerouting power in platform 13.....rerouting power in platform 8.........unresponsive...93% of Laser platforms powered up.'

'Powering up Nuclear Platforms........100% of Nuclear Platforms powered up.'

'Initializing targeting systems Plasma-ball Platforms........... initialized.'

'Initializing targeting systems Laser Platforms..........initialized.'

'Initializing targeting systems Nuclear Platforms........initialized.'

  


By now almost half an hour had passed.

  


"Colonel?" Michael Halliwell said.

  


"Yes, Captain?" Dana answered.

  


"We've established communications with Headquarters, Colonel. The General wishes to speak with you," Michael told her.

  


"Put him through," Dana told him, and looked at a blank screen that changed into general Berman's head.

  


"Shane, we've got a problem. The Romulans mean business. They're not moving at the usual .6 times the speed of light, but .9 times. They'll be here around 0530 hours instead of around 0550 as we had anticipated. It also has another consequence, the . . ." General said and was cut off by Dana.

  


"Yes, I know. Utopia Planitia and the fleet there are powered down in order to avoid detection. Powering up takes time - they'll be here about a quarter of an hour later instead of the planned five minutes," Dana interrupted him and continued, "Hold on, General."

  


"Lieutenant Doyle, make contact with a space telescope above Eurasia. Have it pointed at sector 220 and with a space telescope above America and have it pointed at sector 116," Dana ordered Marinda.

  


"On it, Colonel," Marinda answered.

  


"Yes, General?" Dana turned back toward general Berman.

  


"Sensors indicate that they're also coming with more ships than usual." The general looked to his right briefly and pushed a few buttons. "We'll be outnumbered 1 to 6, I'm glad you came up with the backup plan, Colonel, we're going to need it. When will you be ready?"

  


"These weapon's platforms have been off line for over a century, General, they can't interface with today's space telescopes. We'll have to manually recalibrate their targeting systems. It'll take approximately one point five minutes per satellite; there are about eighty of them delegated to six people, it'll take between fifteen and twenty minutes. We'll be ready between 5:35 and 5:40; they'll have to hold out until then," Dana told the general, busy recalibrating the first of the targeting systems.

  


"That's cutting it close, Colonel. Especially since I think they won't limit their maneuverability anymore. See if you can shorten the period of time," General Berman told her.

  


"Understood, General, but I don't want these things to fire at our own instead of the Romulans," Dana told the general.

  


"Got it. Berman out," General Berman answered and the screen went blank again.

  


Dana typed in the following words, 'Delegate targeting recalibrations to additional stations: 3, 5, 7, 10 and 14,' while she said, "You heard him, each take a space telescope and start doing these targeting recalibrations."

  


"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir," the five of answered in unison.

  


Dana looked back down her screen:

'Target lock acquired: 15° L, 42° R, 9° U, measurements, 26m diameter,

50m depth, apr. mass 50 mt. Correct? Y/N.'

  


*****

  


Time passed by until 5:35 when the general's face once again blinked into existence.

  


"Colonel, we're still holding our own, but we can't for much longer. Their number advantage is costing us."

  


"Understood, General. Tell them to hang on just one minute more, maximum two," Dana answered.

  


"Copy that, I'll tell 'em," the general answered and his face blinked out of existence.

  


"You ready?" Dana asked frantically of the others as she finished the last of the recalibrations by pushing 'N', then a few redirections and finally, 'Y'.

  


"Ready," came one reply.

  


And another, "Ready," as Dana typed in the next words without the return button: 'Move all satellites to grid 19.'

  


Another three 'ready's' and Dana pushed the return button. The screen answered:

'Moving all satellites to grid 19. Acquiring targets through satellites currently present.'

'Unknown targets found, displaying.'

  


Schematic drawings, size, energy output and other characteristics of the vessels above Earth were displayed on the screen. Behind it stood the words, 'Enemy/Friendly.' Dana pushed on 'Enemy' or 'Friendly' where appropriate. Then she typed, 'Initiate pre-firing sequences on all satellites.' On the screen came the response:

'Initiating pre-firing sequences on Plasma-ball Platforms........ priming Plasma-ball launchers......ready.'

'Initiating pre-firing sequences on Laser Platforms........priming Laser batteries...........ready.'

'Initiating pre-firing sequences on Nuclear Platforms.......priming launchers......opening locking mechanisms........ready.'

  


Then Dana entered, 'Go to automatic firing.'

  


'Automatic firing: ready.'

  


And then, finally, 'Fire at will.'

  


*****

  


High above Earth

  


"Damn," Lieutenant Michaels said as he saw another silent explosion to his left. Was it Romulan or one of them? He didn't know. "Skunk, we're not going keep this up. They outnumber us six to one, and I've got feeling it increased in the past few minutes."

  


I know, Bull, Lieutenant Commander Dyson answered as he blew away another Romulan ship. If we don't get help soon, we're all dead meat.

  


"You've got one your six, Skunk," Michaels yelled as his lasers cut down a Romulan ship. It silently exploded in the vacuum.

  


Shit, I'm hit, came Dyson's yell through Michaels' earpiece.

  


"Hold on, I'm coming," Michaels told him, ready to turn his fighter toward Dyson's craft.

  


Don't bother. A little damage ain't gonna stop me from taking care of them, Dyson yelled back. Michaels looked to his left and saw Dyson's craft rolling sharply, bringing the front of the fighter in the opposite direction and slowing the fighter almost to a standstill. Michaels winced. He knew that the maneuver would have pulled at least ten G's despite the fighter's inertial dampers and that the Romulan fighter was almost on top of Dyson.

  


Take this, you freak, Michaels heard Dyson yell as he saw a rocket being launched from Dyson's fighter, obliterating the Romulan fighter just before it would have collided with Dyson.

  


Michaels rolled his craft in a sharp downward roll, barely avoiding the missile that rocketed passed him. The rocket, however, quickly changed course and came back after him. Michaels pitched his ship sharply down. The rocket once again past over and changed course to intercept. General Berman's voice came through the comm system, Listen up people, backup is coming in maximum two minutes. Keep it together for another short while, Earth is counting on you people.

  


"Let's not increase the pressure, huh," Michaels sarcastically remarked as he banked his craft sharply to the right and down, directly at a Romulan fighter chasing an Earth fighter, who, being attacked from two more angles, was barely keeping from being shot out of space. The female pilot was desperately asking for help. Michaels turned his comm system to a slightly different frequency, making sure the Romulan would hear him, and told him in a blood thirsty voice, "Try this on for size, son of a bitch." He sharply pulled his ship up, coming into the path of a second ship that was attacking the Earth fighter, he let his laser cannons loose and it exploded silently in the night sky. The rocket, in the mean time, mistook the fist Romulan ship for the correct target, flew directly at it and blew it into a billion pieces.

  


The ship that had been in distress spun around its axes and fired a missile at a third Romulan ship that promptly exploded. The pilot, Melissa McBrian said to Michaels, Thanks, Bull, I needed that.

  


"No problem, Spark. Just return the favor when I need it," Michaels answered her, banking his ship in order to prevent a collision with a Romulan ship.

  


Holy Shit, Michaels, are you seeing, what I'm seeing, Spark's voice came through Michaels' comm. system.

  


"What is it, Spark? I don't know what you mean," Michaels told her.

  


That satellite, man, it's opening . . . and . . . if I'm correct, I'm seeing a battery of Titan missiles inside of it, Michaels heard her voice again.

  


"If that's our backup, we're screwed," he told her, as he banked down hard and fired his last missile at a Romulan craft that was there. It exploded in a fiery ball of light and debris as he added, "Shit, I need help here, Spark, they've ganged on me with seven of them, I can't take this much longer."

  


Sorry, Bull, Melissa answered, swerving her ship sharply from one side to the other, I've got four of 'em to deal with myself. There're just too many of them . . . Wait a minute, what's that? That old weather satellite is opening as well.

  


Michaels sharply pulled his flight stick downward as his ship took a few hits and some smoke filled the cockpit. Michaels blindly pushed a few buttons, increasing ventilation, as he looked outside the window and saw the satellite Melissa referred to. When he looked further he saw other satellites also opening. He counted three different open satellites and if he wasn't mistaken, satellites which were still around the bend of the Earth a few minutes ago were now moving toward him. They were also open.

  


Whatever that is, Bull, it doesn't look old to me, Melissa's voice sounded through the comm. system.

  


Then there were a few red flashed and a few green ones and six of the seven ships attacking him exploded in brilliant orange flames.

  


"Whoa," Michaels said as he turned his ship toward the seventh ship, fired his lasers, and saw it explode. Michaels looked toward the satellites. The green balls of energy came from the satellites that seemed to posses only one firing barrel and red laser beams came from satellites with a battery of four lasers.

  


"Holy shit, those things fire accurately!" Michaels said as he saw Romulan craft explode everywhere. One ship got a red laser just beneath it and banked upward where a new laser beam struck it, exploding it. More lasers and green balls filled space as more satellites came in positions.

  


Whoa, Bull, ha, ha, this is it! I knew they wouldn't let us down! Spark's voice came through the comm.

  


"Yeah, let's blow these Romulan bastards out of our system," Michaels screamed through his comm. system, not limiting himself to just Spark.

  


Lieutenant Commander Michaels, this is Captain Dyson, I believe it's my job to order this squadron around, Dyson voice came through to Michaels.

  


"What are you gonna do about it, Captain," Michaels said, a smile in his words and one on his face as he blew away another Romulan, "demote me to lieutenant?"

  


A groan and then Dyson's voice, Listen up, Wolf Squadron, you heard the man. Let's blow up these Romulans and keep them away from our carriers and those satellites.

  


Aye, aye, Captain, came several voices over the comm system.

  


Michaels swivelled his craft down and to the left in order to intercept a Romulan craft trying to take out one or more satellites. He fired a few laser bolts and it exploded. He looked at the satellites and saw several 'green ball launchers', as he had started calling them in his head, encircle one satellite with the missile batteries. *What the . . .?* Michaels thought. Then he saw the green launchers firing a whole myriad of green balls directly at a carrier several hundred thousand kilometers away. He turned his ship to see better and to attack an incoming Romulan bomber. He dispatched it quickly, but not before it could fire a rocket. He looked at the two events as good as possible: on one side he saw the green balls strike the ships, little more than a second after they were fired, (*Effective, over a range of a few hundred thousand kilometers,* he thought in astonishment), and on the other side he saw the rocket ready to hit one of the satellites. A small, chemically propelled projectile was launched from the satellite's side that intercepted the rocket and exploded with it. The satellite lurched, then after a few white bursts of gas it stabilized itself.

  


Michaels turned to the right, aiming for another Romulan bomber. Apparently they had decided the biggest threat came from the satellites. He aimed and fired; the bomber exploded nicely. Michaels looked back at the satellite and the encircled missile battery satellite. A missile launched with a burst of chemical propellant. Michaels looked and saw the familiar Titan form - at first that is. After a few seconds, Michaels clearly saw it wasn't a standard Titan missile: it was far too short for that; the propulsion system seemed far more advanced. His observations were confirmed as the missile lurched forward, at about a quarter light speed he estimated, after a brief flash of light. He followed the missile to its target for about ten seconds, and saw how the green balls now took out any target that could threaten to take out the missile. Then it hit, dead center, on a Romulan carrier. First there was just a small blimp of light, indicating the impact, the carrier was too far away from him to see much more. Then, with brilliant white light, the entire carrier exploded, launching debris everywhere.

  


"Fuck," Michaels said through his comm system. "If this craft didn't have automatic blinders, I'd be blind." He looked around and saw a few more of the encircling formations and another three missiles being launched.

  


Yeah, me too. Damn that was bright, he heard a reply as he quickly turned his fighter toward a missile going right at a satellite and blew it away.

  


"Whoa," he said as he turned his craft back toward the Romulan carriers. "Guys are you seeing what I'm seeing?" He knew Romulans were seeing what he was seeing, because all of them were turning back and desperately heading for their mother ships.

  


Yeah, those are ours, right? Spark's voice came over the intercom.

  


"Oh, yeah," he said as a wall of fighters descended upon two Romulan carriers. They had no defense; they weren't expecting any attack from that direction. The fighters made quick work of the ship's defense systems and simply flew straight on at the hundreds of Romulan fighter craft desperately trying to get back to their ships and defend them. The Romulans started exploding everywhere. A few slower ships, Earth bombers, were still behind the carriers and Michaels saw exhaust fumes heading for the two crippled Romulan carriers. The bombers quickly veered off, steering clear of the impending explosions. Then Michaels could see explosions all across the carriers, ripping through them, and they exploded, a little less brightly, then the four other carriers that now exploded through missiles launched by the satellites. The Earth carrier, that was a little slower, now entered the scene and shot one of its nuclear missiles at another Romulan carrier. It was trying to turn toward the Earth ship, but it was too late. The missile struck and that ship too exploded in a brilliant ball of light and debris.

  


"Yes! We've got 'em by the balls!" Michaels roared.

  


Only half of 'em, Bull, Michaels heard Spark's icily serious reply.

  


"Whatta ya mean?" Michaels said, looking around to see if he was missing something.

  


Well, Spark's answer came, a smile creeping up her face and in her voice, half of 'em don't have balls.

  


"Very funny," Michaels replied, scowling at himself. He was now halfway to the Romulan carriers and on top of the fleeing Romulan fighters and he started blowing them away.

  


I certainly thought so, Michaels heard her grinning voice.

  


"Look at that!" Michaels said to her, watching Romulan fighters land in the remaining carriers and then the carriers slowly turning and moving away from Earth, "They're retreating: all of them."

  


I see it! we've won! We've won this battle, Spark's reply was full of joy.

  


Well done, people, came Dyson's voice. I think we're all up for promotion and a few medals.

  


Listen up, pilots, Berman's voice boomed through the intercom. A lot of those one man craft can no longer land. Capture a few of every type intact with the pilot alive and destroy the rest of 'em.

  


'Aye, sirs' from all the squadron leaders filtered through Michaels' comm system.

  


Berman out, Berman said then and he went off the air.

  


You heard the man, came Dyson's voice.

  


This was the turning point in the Romulan war.

  


~~X~~


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

  


"How bad is it?" Dana asked the chief engineer as he crawled back out from under the runabout. "Will it fly?"

  


"Yeah, we can get it back in order," Commander Frank Bolo, half Bolian/half Human answered. "It'll require some work and use of the industrial replicator in engineering, but we can get it up and running."

  


"What's the damage?" Dana asked, a little more lightly this time.

  


"Fried warp coils, damaged shield emitters, fried phaser couplings, a few components in Life Support systems need replacing, although they're still in good enough order to keep us alive, some leakage in the warp plasma manifolds, and damage to the exhaust vents. I haven't had the time to check the rest yet," Frank answered, his blue skin, marked with Human-pink spots was flustered a little greenish with warmth and probably a few other things Dana couldn't place.

  


"Is there a way you can get it off this ship without having to beam it into space?" Dana asked in an urgent tone as she watched a few of the engineers working on the Runabout, probably on the critical systems.

  


"They got it in here in about twenty minutes, fitting and prodding the Runabout through that small, loading entrance; getting it out in the same way could take up to forty minutes," Frank answered gravely, pointing at the loading entrance.

  


The Dominion had not captured a Runabout intact yet, so Dana could easily imagine the Jem'Hadar tractoring the Runabout into their territory, then when it was safe, using tractor beams and other tractoring tools to get the Runabout in here through the entrance Frank was pointing at.

  


"How severely would the Runabout hamper the ship's ability to function if it blew itself through the walls?" Dana said, pretty sure of his answer, but he was the expert on this ship, so he would know best.

  


"Let's see: damage to the energy conduits, imbalancing and hampering in it's maneuverability, the possibility of feedback from the phaser energy to the warp core, with the possibility of a warp core breach . . . Should I go on?" Frank answered urgently.

  


"No, I get the picture. Can you enlarge the hatch, and how completely?" Dana asked him in the same urgent tone Frank had picked up from her.

  


"Pfwoow," Frank answered, moving his right hand through his black tussled hair to the back of his head, where he scratched himself. "Let's see . . ." Frank said, his right hand now holding and stroking his chin, as he intently studied the hatch and went through several possibilities in his head. "Cutting a bigger hole isn't the problem, we could do that in a few hours. After that there are two possibilities: either we simply close the hole with an emergency force field, which has some severe drawbacks, like diminished maneuverability, or we build a brand new hatch, which I'm not certain we can do with the limited resources we have, including time," Frank answered still stroking his chin.

  


"How long?" Dana said quickly.

  


"Two to three days, if we can build it at all. These Dominion warships weren't exactly designed for much creative engineering, you know," Frank Bolo said, the urgency in his voice picking up. Obviously he wanted to continue with his work.

  


"The Ulysses?" Dana asked, turning to the Runabout.

  


Frank did the same as he answered, "Anywhere were between nine hours to a day, depending on how much more damage I find."

  


Dana nodded, calculating the time left. "All right, report to me what you find in this ship. Once you're done searching it, get the Ulysses fly ready and capable of supporting us, then all the other critical systems, then shields, then phasers and finally the rest. Once you're done with that, make the hatch big enough so the Ulysses can fly out. We've got about eighty-four hours before I anticipate the possibility of needing it, but it could be necessary before that time. Don't give me reports on every technicality, only on really important things. Also don't ask me for permission on every unorthodox method you find. Use our time as best as possible, Commander Bolo," Dana ordered still with urgency.

  


"Go it, ma'am. We're on it," Commander Bolo answered as he turned his attention back towards his work.

  


Dana walked up the ramp into the Runabout and walked through the ship, roughly the size of a bus. She walked through the rooms and finally came to where she wanted to be. She opened the cabinet there and took out a complete environmental suit and took it back out the Runabout.

  


As she walked out of the Runabout, the engineers looked a bit questioningly at her, but otherwise kept to their jobs. Dana walked out of the cargo bay, the suit hung over her right shoulder. The boots and the hand shoes were in the helmet, that she was carrying. She walked along the black corridors until she entered the morgue again. She looked around; no doctor, apparently he had taken ensign Papen's advice. Dana dumped the suit on the floor, then opened a slab. On it she started to assemble the suit: boots fastened to the 'pants' part, the 'pants' to the rump of the suit, hand shoes linked to the sleeves and helmet clicked on the rump. Then she closed the slab and the airtight suit was now hidden from sight. She asked the computer for the coordinates, memorized them, then walked away.

  


*****

  


"Everything all right?" Dana asked as she reentered the bridge.

  


"As well as can be expected," Commander Makai answered, looking through the headset. Dana looked around and saw the Admiral heavily leaning on his console and holding his head. The second headset was on his round console. Dana grinned and picked the headset from the console, put it on her head, and fitted the small screen in front of her left eye.

  


The vision of a whirling cocktail of gas, plasma and dust filled her left eye and she said to the admiral, "Understand now why you're not in command of this mission, Admiral?"

  


He groaned then answered, "Okay, I think I know why Commander Makai is, but why you in command? You're Human right?"

  


Dana grinned and from inside of her ambassadorial robes she produced antique, four-hundred-year-old reading glasses. "I never had corrective surgery, it seems my deviation from the norm is enough, for me not to get headaches," Dana explained to him, of course these days she no longer needed them. After so many times being forced to read without glasses and getting headaches in the process, her Immortal physiology had simply adapted; the muscles in her eyes had gained more strength so they no longer overcompensated, thus no longer causing strain and the resulting headaches. It also meant she could see more sharply in extreme distances.

  


The ship suddenly lurched, then started shaking violently. Dana saw several plasma discharges in her small screen.

  


"Shit," Ensign Papen said as he furiously started pushing buttons on his round console. "Oh boy! Hold on!" Another violent lurch and the sound of something impacting on the hull raced through the ship. The crew on the bridge could barely keep their footing and they almost fell down, but somehow managed to stay standing.

  


"That was close," Hans said, and elaborated, "That plasma discharge was caused by us. It would be wise to slow down a little."

  


"No, they'll be looking for us by now, keep up the speed. In fact, if it's any way possible, speed up," Dana answered coolly.

  


"Yes, ma'am," Hans answered swiftly as his hands danced across the console to avoid the natural occurring, but no less random, plasma discharges.

  


"You think they're already looking?" Commander Makai answered.

  


"Oh yeah. One of their ships disappeared, they'll be looking all right," Dana said neutrally.

  


"It's war. More ships will disappear. Somehow I doubt the Dominion is looking for every ship that disappears," the admiral interjected.

  


"True, but they'll be looking for every disappearing ship that held one of their gods," Dana answered rapidly.

  


"There was a changeling on board?" Commander Makai asked incredulously.

  


"Yes, and the operative word there is 'was'. He's dead, now; I killed him. But it means there's a chance the entire Dominion is looking for this ship, which eliminates any chance for us to bluff our way through. If a Dominion ship hails us, they'll know this is the ship that disappeared and they'll attack. Let's hope they don't scan and/or hail us, when we encounter one of them. If they do, we'll have to fight our way through," Dana said, thinking about the possibilities.

  


"Our chances are getting worse all the time," Hans muttered, unhappy.

  


Dana suddenly stood up, walked toward the female Lieutenant and asked her, "Lieutenant Palermo, can you get holograms of Dominion personnel to overlay us whenever we have contact with a ship."

  


"Yeah, but it'll take some time. I've never done such a thing in a Dominion ship before and I can't guarantee any positive results," Lieutenant Palermo answered, pushing a few buttons.

  


"Do it," Dana ordered her briskly.

  


"If Dominion ships know immediately that it's us, why bother with a few senseless illusions?" Commander Makai asked her.

  


"That's the reason I didn't tell her to do it immediately. Dominion ships would know the minute they see the ship, but . . ." Dana started to explain.

  


"But we might bluff our way past a Cardassian ship," Hans interrupted Dana's explanation. "I like it."

  


"I'm glad you approve, Ensign," Dana said, smiling at him and putting just a touch of menace in the word 'ensign'.

  


"Sorry," he said, grinning a big mischievous smile and turning back towards his console.

  


"All right, everybody get as much rest as possible. We've got a period of low activity now, and I want everybody fit when it ends," Dana said, looking around the bridge.

  


"Aye, sir," came the responses.

  


Dana made herself as comfortable as possible on a bridge without chairs and leaned against a console, remembering a different time.

  


~~X~~

  


August, 2243

Utopia Planitia Fleetyards

  


"Get that pylon stabilized!" Dana ordered in her environmental suit.

  


"Aye, sir," came several answers through her comm system.

  


A few of the engineers had screwed up and instead of the pylon being stable and attached to the first Constitution Class Starship, the Constitution, it had destabilized and now it took all of Dana's organizational and engineering skills to solve the problem. After about fifteen minutes of crisis management, she solved the problem and maneuvered herself back towards the entrance of the fleetyard.

  


Once inside she took off the suit and put back in the storage locker she got it from, then walked out of the room.

  


"Hello, Admiral. Sorry about the delay," Dana told Admiral Bracken, still wearing dirty work clothes. Her black hair hung tousled around her face, her cheeks glistened with sweat.

  


"Oh, nothing to worry about. I'd rather have you a little late than that ship a whole lot damaged," the admiral answered.

  


"So . . . what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Dana asked him, having a pretty good idea about what this was.

  


"Commander Drury . . ." Admiral Bracken started to say.

  


"Anna," Dana interrupted, grinning at him.

  


"I was trying to sound official," the admiral said, then trailed off and muttered half under his breath, "Why do I bother?

  


"Anna, you designed the Constitution Class vessel and you're in command of the engineering teams that are building the ships, but you can not decide a ship's name and definitely not its registry number. I mean calling it 'Enterprise' is one thing," Bracken said, pointing at the ship, that was just behind the Constitution and had barely begun construction, "but disrupting the numbering and registration process and just change its registry to 1701?"

  


"Oh, come on. Why not?" Dana told him, a smile on her face.

  


"What's so special about 1701 anyway?" the admiral asked exasperated.

  


"Nothing much. It's something of a superstition. I know I can't change the registry entry, but you could. It would take some effort, but you could get it done," Dana said, smiling a little seductively.

  


"Well, a superstition isn't going to cut it. You've got come up with something better, Anna," Bracken told her.

  


"OK, how about a bribe?" Dana asked sweetly.

  


Bracken looked at her incredulously. "First of all, I can't be bribed. Second of all, what is it that you think you can bribe me with?" Bracken asked her, just as incredulously.

  


"How did you put again? This morning I mean," Dana teased and continued to repeat the story. "Oh, yeah; 'My wife hasn't had many friends, since I took this position, and she really liked you, and my kids liked your stories so much, they pressured me into getting you to come with us to a restaurant Sunday night. They are really looking forward to it.' I believe I answered 'no' and that I already had plans."

  


"No way," Bracken said. It was half a statement that the bribe wouldn't work, although that part wasn't very convincing, and half a statement that he couldn't believe she was actually doing this.

  


"Oh, yeah," Dana said, grinning at him. "I also believe you said something about the atmosphere in your house not being very good if I didn't go . . . I could, with a lot of begging, groveling and outrageous promises, reschedule my former plans and come with you and your family . . . tell you what, I'll even pay the bill," Dana told him with an innocent and sweet smile on her face.

  


The Admiral thought it over for a few seconds before he answered, "I'll see what I can do."

  


~~X~~

  


"Captain," Bolo's voice came across the intercom.

  


"Go ahead, Bolo," Scully answered the engineer immediately.

  


"We've found the commbadges, sir. Someone is bringing yours up to the bridge as we speak," Bolo said with a hint of strain in his voice. "The Ulysses will take about twelve hours to finish and I think I can finish that door you want in about thirty-eight after that."

  


"Understood, Commander. Anything else?" Dana intoned.

  


"Nothing, sir. It's a fairly standard Dominion warship," Commander Bolo answered hurriedly.

  


"All right, Scully out," Dana answered and Bolo severed the intercom connection.

  


A few minutes later an engineer entered the bridge and passed everyone their commbadge, after which he left the bridge to return to his other duties.

  


Dana pinned the badge to the left sight of her chest and tapped it. "Scully to Bolo," Dana said to the air after the badge gave a chirp.

  


"Bolo here, sir. Did you want something?" Commander Bolo's voice sounded through the badge.

  


"No, just checking if the damn things still work," Dana told him. "Scully out."

  


Scully leaned back against the console and since there was nothing to do, she started reminiscing about the past.

  


~~X~~

  


Romulus

May 2160

  


Dana stumbled forward as she was brutally shoved into the small room. Six of the eight Romulans who had abducted her entered the room with her. Four of them took position in the room, two of them by the exit and the other two to either side of the room. The last two, the ones who were in charge, went to the middle of the room.

  


"Sit," one of them ordered.

  


Dana looked the Romulan who had just ordered her to sit directly in the eyes and threatened, "If I find out you have hurt my daughter, I'm going to kill every single one of the bastards who took me away . . . and then some."

  


"I assure you, we did not hurt your daughter. We've found that hurting the children of the subjects we want to have answer a few questions, tends to make those subjects all the more adamant in resisting us. Some became downright suicidal in their quests for vengeance," the same Romulan who ordered her to sit, apparently the one in charge, smoothly answered her in a heavily accented voice.

  


"It's not like I can check," Dana said coldly.

  


"No, you can't. However, some . . . of the more dim-witted among us have the tendency to gloat about their . . . accomplishments. They usually find out that subjects in a blind-rage-induced - I believe in your physiology it's - adrenaline-rush can be quite . . . deadly, to them, and subsequently to our plan with those subjects. Therefore we tend to make sure nobody has anything to gloat about. Now, sit down, before I have you made to sit down," the Romulan once again answered smoothly.

  


Dana relaxed and started to examine the room easily. In the middle was a small table, one stool on either side. A bright lamp hung above the table. However, since the lamp hung very low, it illuminated only the table and a small circle around it. The part of the room that was outside the illuminated circle was eerily veiled in shadows.

  


Dana then slid the hard small chair on the far side of the room back and sank in it, forcing herself to be relaxed. She stretched her legs and put them cross legged on the table, leaning the chair precariously on its back legs, while she crossed her hands behind her head to support it. She looked around the room once more, casually, then commented cheerily, "Comfy."

  


The Romulan in command fumed angrily as he sat down in the other chair harshly. Apparently, he didn't like the way the war and this interrogation were going.

  


"So . . . why me?" Dana asked cheerily, even though she didn't feel all that cheerful. She knew she could easily kill the Romulans here, but then what? She knew she had to bide her time, get to know this prison. The fact that the Romulans used several unsavory techniques to get their prisoners to talk wasn't comforting either, especially since that would quickly reveal her extraordinary regenerative abilities.

  


"You are second in command of the American intelligence agency known as the CIA. We also found out you know everything your boss knows, yet you have less security," the Romulan said, an angry grin on his face.

  


"Impressive, I see we have underestimated the Tal Shiar," Dana said, a grin plastered on her face, while she rocked the chair back and forth gently.

  


"Impressive," the Romulan agent in the chair said, feeling the nervous looks coming from his subordinates. "It seems we have underestimated the CIA . . . or is it one of the other nations' intelligence agencies that found us out and shared it with the CIA?"

  


"That is for me to know, and for you to find out, isn't it?" Dana answered, smirking a smug smile.

  


"No matter. Tell us the history of your world?" the Romulan asked grimly.

  


"What? No drugs, no torture?" Dana answered the Romulan again with the same smirk.

  


"We try simple questions first, the drugs and torture come later," the Romulan answered, adding a sinister tone to his voice.

  


"All right," Dana started, folding her hands in her lap. "Approximately four and a half billion years ago, after our sun was born from a nebula, Earth solidified out of some of the remains of that Nebula . . ."

  


"Something closer to the present, Ms. Dahmer," the Romulan interrupted, a strange combination of annoyance and politeness in his voice.

  


"Ah, you wish to know the history of our race," Dana grinned at him.

  


"Yes," the Romulan answered exasperated.

  


"Why didn't you say so immediately? I'll be most happy to share our history with you," Dana said with an overly polite tone in her voice. "Approximately forty thousand years ago, our species, Homo Sapiens, evolved somewhere in Northern Africa or the Middle East . . ."

  


The Romulan suddenly smashed his fist on the small, unstable table, causing Dana to quickly put her feet down on the ground and sit up straight with all four legs of her chair on the ground in order not to fall over backward.

  


"Enough!" the Romulan barked. "I want to know about the history of your civilization starting with your industrial revolution!"

  


Dana leaned forward, folded her arms across each other, put them on the table and leaned on them. Then she started, conspiratorially, still grinning, "No problem, but you really should ask more specific questions."

  


There was no reason for Dana to withhold this information, with the effectiveness of the Tal Shiar already proven, she knew they would already know the history of Earth. Why they would bother asking her the question, she did not know, perhaps to check if she would lie or not. She also needed to stall for time. Once the Romulans started using torturing techniques, they would quickly find out about her immortality, so she decided to tell the whole tale, since the knowledge had no strategic importance anyway.

  


"The Industrial Revolution started in the early eighteen hundreds, approximately three hundred and thirty years ago. It all started with the steam engine, which allowed the first factories to be built in Great Britain. A few decades later factories were all across Europe and America doing all manner of things which were done by hand before that. At about this time, most monarchies, which were totalitarian governments in Europe, where transformed into Constitutional Democracies after American design. Civil rights in America slowly gained importance; in Europe, slavery had been disbanded for a long time. When the American government did the same, the southern American states, who used many slaves, did not accept it. In 1862 the American Civil War between the southern and northern states started. The Northern states won the war after three years, and slavery was outlawed.

  


"In 1903 the Wright Brothers flew a plane for the first time; however there is a debate as to whether they or a German was the actual first man to fly a plane. Around this time the first automobiles emerged as well. Diplomatic relations in Europe deteriorated steadily, which resulted in the start of the First World War in 1914 after the assassination of an important political figure. The war was between Germany and Austria/Hungary on one side and the Allies, consisting of France, England, Russia and later America, on the other.

  


"Russia was still ruled by a totalitarian Emperor, who made one mistake after another. With the political situation there deteriorating, Germany, smelling an opening, helped a previously banned revolutionary back into Russia. In 1917 the Russian Revolution was a fact. It went from one totalitarian system to the next, Communism. The philosophy that people would reach true freedom and equality by guaranteeing equality and in order to create equality the masses would have to first be suppressed by a small group of the enlightened few. Germany made the mistake by downing an American cargo vessel in the same year, after which the Americans joined the allies. Germany and Austria/Hungary lost the war in 1918.

  


"Subsequently the Germans were held responsible for the war and were made to pay a huge some of money over several decades of time to cover the cost of the damages done during the war. Time crept on and the forced payments made its toll on Germany. In 1929 the stock market crashed completely, plunging whole countries in chaos. In Germany, the effects were worse since they were already under stress from paying off their debt. This allowed Adolf Hitler and his NSDAP, a nationalistic fascist party, to come to power in Germany in 1933. After this he started rebuilding Germany for war, he flat out refused to pay the payments. Most notably the English did nothing against it. They thought they could appease Hitler with concessions, going so far as giving him entire countries.

  


"Hitler formed an alliance with Japan, Italy and Spain. In 1939, Hitler started the Second World War by first annexing Austria, and then Poland. In 1940, he attacked the Netherlands and then moved south to Belgium and finally France. After that he tried for Russia and England. In 1941, Japan attacked the American naval facility Pearl Harbor after which the Americans entered the war. In the course of the war, the Americans developed the first nuclear fission driven bombs. The Germans were defeated in may 1945. In September of 1945, the Americans dropped two nuclear bombs on Japan: one on Hiroshima and one on Nagasaki. The Japanese capitulated, which marked the end of the Second World War.

  


"In 1952, the first artificial satellite was launched into space by the Russians. In 1957 followed the first Human in space. The Americans having a political ideology opposite the Russians, freedom instead of oppression, couldn't stay behind and on the 9th of July, 1969, Neil Armstrong was the first Human, and American, to walk on the moon.

  


"All this was part of the cold war between the Russians and Americans that started after the Second World War. One of the other repercussions was a nuclear arms race that reached its pinnacle during the late 1970's and early 1980's at which time there were enough nuclear arms on Earth to wipe out our entire civilization. This was troublesome for the Americans and they decided to build the Strategic Defense Initiative, code named Star Wars. It was a defensive screen of laser firing satellites to shoot down Intercontinental Nuclear Missiles before the could reach American soil. The Russians didn't like this and they made a deal: the amount of nuclear arms would be reduced on both sides, and the Americans would not continue building the SDI. The Americans agreed since they had reached higher than they could succeed - they couldn't finish SDI anyway. In 1989, the Russian state, the Soviet Union, fell apart including its closest allies, and in those countries democratic states were set up.

  


"The middle-eastern Islamic countries slowly became more powerful. Several countries which had not been part of the Nuclear Arms agreements in the past developed their own nuclear strike capabilities. This was not something the Americans liked and in 2000 they decided to start a new SDI. By this time computer technology was advanced enough to build highly accurate guidance systems and they built anti-strike missiles that could be fired from the ground and would take out the weapons before the could land and detonate.

  


"This required a new innovation. Since the mid 1980's the Americans had build stealth aircraft - craft that were almost invisible to radar. The other countries with nuclear strike capabilities came up with a nice philosophy: you can't shoot from the sky what you can't see, and halfway the 2020's they developed stealth missiles in deep secret. Several diplomatic and politic problems followed, resulting in the pact Eastern Confederacy, or Econ for short. Russia, the mid-Eastern and the far Eastern countries made up this Confederacy. Diplomatic relations between the Confederacy and the Western countries deteriorated and in 2048 the Confederacy struck first. The first two nuclear bombs hit perfectly: the first on Washington DC, the American Capital, and the second directly on NORAD, instantly destroying this installation and the mountain in which it was build.

  


"Backup installations came on-line immediately and after three more nuclear detonations on American soil, people understood what was being fired at them: stealth missiles. Highly secret half finished sensors were used immediately to find the missiles and what was left of SDI kept many of the nuclear missiles from dropping on American and European soil. The Americans retaliated intelligently, luckily, by launching only some of their nuclear missiles, all directed and known nuclear launching facilities, detonating all that was left of the Eastern Confederacy's nuclear capability in one go.

  


"What followed after was a more conventional all out war. In December of 2053, the war ended. There were no winners. The Third World War ended because there was nothing left to destroy. The aftermath of this Nuclear holocaust was a nightmare world, filled with anarchy and chaos. Usually a few criminals seized power of cities, transforming them into small city states and becoming horrible powers of corruption and injustice.

  


"Europe, the region with the least amount of destruction - mostly because they had previously stated they would not use their nuclear capability on Earth, a statement they kept, earning America the most of the nuclear assault - was the place where democracy returned first. In 2057, the civilians there revolted against their oppressors, which sparked the same kind of actions in much of the rest of the world.

  


"Finally, the big change happened in 2063 when Zefram Cochrane breached the Warp Barrier for the first time. This act was witnessed by Vulcans - who seem to be closely related to you, by the way - and they considered Earth now ready for First Contact. The contact between Earth and Vulcan united Humans in a way previously thought impossible and over a period of thirty years, with a little help from Vulcans, Earth rebuild itself. Cities rose back up from the ground; even some monuments were rebuild, sometimes bigger and more lavish than before, adding more meaning to them than just the meaning they had before. They became symbols of peace and restoration. Radiation and more conventional pollution was cleaned up rapidly using the new technologies that became available, the ozone layer was rebuilt and we unitedly started exploring our solar system and beyond.

  


"In the first fifty years of the twenty-second century, genetic engineering revolutionized. Some people in China thought it was a good idea to improve Humanity by genetically engineering them with greater strength, speed and intellect, plus a higher tolerance for radiation and such. These improved Humans thought that their genes made them the rightful rulers of the world and started a war in 2153. They conquered much of Asia within a few months since none of it was ready for a war against fellow Humans; there hadn't been any in a hundred years. The rest of the world quickly mobilized though and six months after the genetically engineered supermen started these Eugenic Wars, they were defeated. One year later, in 2154, after a hundred and fifty years of slowly increasing transporter capability -- starting with just photons in 1997 -- the first Human being was transported. It's capability hardly anyone else possesses, not even the Vulcans. In 2156, you attacked us and now we're sitting here talking about it," Dana finished her speech. She had kept a close eye on the Romulans and the had all been getting agitated and angry, even the one who was sitting across from her, although he kept it reigned in tightly. The one standing behind him, the only other officer, had been increasing his pacing back and forth.

  


"Interesting. Aren't you betraying your people with these candid answers?" the Romulan asked.

  


"No. There is nothing that I have told you that you don't already know. You've already shown great intelligence capability, to the point of discovering that I know everything my commander knows and that we downplayed my security to make it seem that I do not. Finding out our history should be a snap to you, especially with your Vulcan heritage. The only thing you'd have to do is get one of you on Earth with a Vulcan passport, walk into a library and read through our history books. Everything I've told you, you can find in those books . . . and then some," Dana said, returning to her relaxed position with her feet on the table, grinning at them as she absentmindedly inspected her fingernails.

  


"What's the point anyway?" the Romulan pacing behind the sitting one said as the sitting one started studying her intently. "It's all lies she tells us. Lies." Suddenly the Romulan accusing her of lying sped across the room, pulled her out of her chair by her neck and smashed her against the far wall, and then sneered closely in her face. "Where is it? Tell us where it is, bitch."

  


"Where's what?" Dana croaked out as she felt her battered back bones mending themselves.

  


"Makar!" the previously sitting Romulan commanded. Makar jerked his head in his commanders direction. The commander continued in a lower warning tone in Romulan, "If you crush her neck, she won't be telling us anything, lies or otherwise."

  


Makar slowly released Scully and she took a few gulps of air before she managed to bring her breathing back under control. The Romulan commander walked up to her and said, "We know your lying; you attacked us in what you call 2086."

  


Scully actually laughed, then said, "That's a good one. In 2086 we hardly had warp drive, not to mention our planet was still being rebuild after being almost destroyed during the Third World War."

  


The Romulan stepped closer, angry, "Don't patronize me. Your Third World War didn't happen until 2101, and during that war you temporarily lost your warp capability. You didn't rebuild that capability until 2150 and then only marginally."

  


Dana laughed again and told him, "I guess I was wrong, the Tal Shiar is not even close to as good as I thought if you can't even get our history right."

  


Now it was time for the commander to lose his temper. He grabbed Scully by her shirt and pushed her up against the wall. "No more lies! Where is it? Or I'll bring you to Extraction now, three hours before it's scheduled."

  


"Where what is?" Dana spat vehemently at him. What she said next was full of sarcasm. "Are you talking about some super weapon, or something? Expect us to drop out of warp above Romulus one day, fire once, and blow up the entire planet?!"

  


"You know what I'm talking about. Now tell me the truth," the Romulan stated as he put her back down again. "Your version of history is false."

  


"Oh, yeah, right, sure. We just conveniently changed our entire history. Replaced every history book in every library, even the most remote ones on Earth. Did the same with every single history article on our computer network, no matter how buried it is. Found a way to get every single one of the six billion people that now populate the Earth to tell a false history and managed to find way that they never ever slip up, even the smallest children. On top of that, we found away to do exactly the same thing with all the history texts and people of seven of the eight species we've met. Vulcan, Andorian . . . all but you," Dana stated coldly and sarcastically, grinning a stupid smile.

  


The commander looked at her, thinking through everything she said, then turned around and walked toward Makar, then looked at him.

  


"Palek, what's going on?" Makar asked his commander in Romulan, not liking the look on his face.

  


"What she says makes sense," Palek stated pensively.

  


"Impossible," Makar stated. "All lies, all fabricated. You can't start believing her."

  


"If that were all lies, why would she come with the story about the libraries?" Palek stated. "If her history is false and the libraries do hold what we think is their history, than that statement is ridiculous. And if it holds her history, then she is right. They could never pull off such a massive operation; it's impossible."

  


"But we know they attacked. We examined the clues among the wreckage and the computers ourselves," Makar said hotly.

  


"True. But we didn't examine Earth's history. Could our superiors have given us a false history of Earth? Could she really not know of the attack? That it was done by the Terrans in utmost secrecy, and that she doesn't know about it?"

  


"We know the virus came from Earth. We need to extract the location of the storage facility from her. Telling us a false history of Earth would only impede us in our efforts to get that information," Makar answered.

  


Dana was listening in. Romulan was a bit like Vulcan, and she was one of the few people who had been studying Romulan language. There was not much she could pick up, but 'she makes sense', 'believe her', 'false history', 'superiors gave' were a few of the things she picked up. Finally 'virus' was the last she heard. Her head started spinning. It just couldn't be possible. Her thoughts blocked out everything else. *But it makes sense,* she thought, feelings of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. *Why the Romulans bothered to come all the way to us, all those light-years, all that trouble, while there are so many easier picking a lot closer to their home world. Why their version of our history is so different. If they managed to get away, a secret base, secret tests - warp drive. They saw their destruction, ascertained their chances were gone, decided to leave. 2086, sixty-six years of travel at warp one to Romulus and Remus, perhaps a little shorter if they had more speed, add a few years solving a few problems that found their way, and you come up with . . .*

  


"2014," Dana stated out loud, interrupting Palek and Makar in their animated discussion of possibilities.

  


"What?" Palek asked, his head turned to her.

  


"This virus you're talking about, was it an oily substance and when it infected someone it grew a biologically engineered exterminator in their bodies? This exterminator having this very same oily substance as its blood?!" Dana stated harshly.

  


"So you do know about it!" Palek shouted. "Where is it? Where do you keep it? We will destroy it!"

  


"Sit down," Dana said in a commanding tone. "For I'm going to tell you Earth's most carefully guarded secret. Only a handful of people know about it."

  


Palek sat back in his chair while Dana did the same.

  


"From 1948 to 2014, there raged a war on Earth, a secret war," Dana told Palek gravely. "An ancient power had returned. They managed to convince some of the people in power that they were the gods of all our myths, legends, and religions. They also managed to convince the people in our governments that they were billions of years old, that they seeded our planet, and that all resistance to the coming colonization would be futile. This colonization was really simple: our eradication and their return to Earth. They wanted to do this by a modification of the original virus, and spread it across the world by genetically engineered bees. The virus would be dormant until they sent a signal. They did not have the numbers to defeat us, so they used these gullible people against us. They would wait until half our population - by the time of colonization, three billion people - would be infected and then they would activate it. In combination with an aerial attack from their forces, we wouldn't stand a chance. We saw through their deception on time and defeated them. We thought we had wiped them all out . . . apparently we were wrong. Some of them must've escaped and reached you. There is no more of the virus on Earth. We destroyed it all." Dana examined Palek's and Marak's reactions carefully and then added, "My history of Earth - with the exception of the omission of what I just told you - is true."

  


"She's lying Palek, she wants us to believe her, so we'll lower our guard," Makar said, not believing her one instant.

  


Palek looked at her thoughtfully, mulling it all through.

  


"Tell me everything you know about the attack. It is imperative I know," Dana told Palek.

  


"All right," Palek said.

  


"You can't," Makar said.

  


"Makar, if she's lying, then I'm not telling her anything new," Palek said without looking up. Then he started his tale. "Contact was made with the attack force in 2086. Almost certainly they checked if they had superior abilities or not and then made several grand shows of their superiority. Just like with you, they managed to convince us that resistance was futile and that if we cooperated we'd be allowed to live. Our government started cooperating with them just like yours. Fifteen years after they arrived, we started the war. A war that raged for three years, all of it in space, except for the region of Romulus that was infected with the virus. We were forced to drop a nuclear bomb on it, then enter with bio-hazard suits and flame-throwers and rot anything out that could have survived. To the public it was an asteroid impact . . . None of them survived. The Tal Shiar was set up after our victory in order to ascertain their origins and to make sure they were no longer a threat, in addition to more conventional intelligence operations."

  


"Are you absolutely certain they are all dead?" Dana asked.

  


"Why would you ask that?" Palek said.

  


Dana took a deep breath. "Because they had a lot of genetically engineered creatures under their command - all of them biological robots that did their absolute bidding. One of those was a bounty hunter, a perfect assassin. It was capable of changing its shape, or so it seemed. It basically had a biological holographic generator on board, allowing it to refract light any way it chose. It could seem not to be there at all or look like anything it wanted, and it was capable of changing its voice any way it wanted, becoming anything or anyone it needed to be . . . I think one or more of those might still be here," Dana stated looking intently at Palek.

  


"Why would you think that?" Palek asked, as he motioned for Makar to be silent.

  


"You expected to defeat us easily, right? You've got a history of us that's completely wrong. You were expecting us to quickly stop building warp drive in our ships, and then you could steam right ahead to Earth and blow us all away. It wasn't like that, was it? You came to us and what you found was a civilization equaling your own, ships that were even more maneuverable than yours, resources extending far out from our solar system, alliances and supply lines from other species, of which one is - I just now found out - your own cousins from Vulcan. Don't you see? What better way to act out your revenge then have the two people who wiped you out destroy each other? They make you believe that we could attack again anytime with more of the virus so you won't stop fighting until we're destroyed, which forces us to do the same thing just to make sure we survive . . . Thus, we annihilate each other," Dana explained to Palek.

  


"You can't be believing her, Palek?" Makar said hotly.

  


"Be silent! Her tale is too strange not to be the truth, not to mention the fact that all of it finally makes sense. You know how many times our intelligence was faulty . . ." Palek told Makar, who seemed - after thinking a bit - to silently agree with Palek. Then Palek turned back to Dana. "So . . . how do we unmask this shapeshifter?"

  


"The Vulcans have powerful telepathic abilities. I'm right, in assuming that your race also has these abilities - and if not all of you, than at least a percentage . . ." Dana looked at Palek as he nodded, then she continued, "There are Humans who are born telepathic, some are born with telekinetic powers, others with the capability of seeing a possible future . . . I too am born with a sixth sense: I can sense EM fields. It is so sensitive that if I would concentrate I could feel your heart beating. Noticing the difference between two different species, especially one who emits a powerful EM field in order to look Romulan, is easy. I can lead you right to him," Dana told Palek with a murderous gleam in her eye.

  


"If you're wrong, or lying, then we'll be executed, and you'll be tortured to death even after you've answered the questions they will have asked you . . ." Palek stated coldly as he stood, ready for action.

  


"I'm not lying," Dana said as she stood up. "There is more you should know. The blood of these creatures reacts with air and forms a gas; it was deadly to us. I don't know if it is deadly to you, but you shouldn't take the chance and wear bio-hazard suits and definitely put me in one. Also, their wounds heal rapidly. The best way to kill one is by burning it down, or to cut his head of. They had made special weapons to kill these bastards - in case they revolted - that killed them without making the blood deadly, but I didn't bring one with me, if any of them even still exist."

  


"Understood."

  


*****

  


A few hours later

Office, Head of the Tal Shiar

  


The secretaries, all highly ranked operatives, and other employees, all equally ranked, had backed away as the order to do so came from the commander of a squadron clothed in bio-hazard suits as they came through the door. The squadron of nine, eight Romulans and one Human, went around the room.

  


"Anyone?" Palek asked. The people in the room seemed confused at the English question, no doubt most of them didn't even understand the word. They seemed even more confused at the canisters of fuel on the squadron's backs that was part of the small flame throwers they were carrying.

  


"No," Dana's answer sounded through the suit.

  


At that point the head of the Tal Shiar entered from his private office into the bigger room of his direct employees and bellowed in Romulan, "What is the meaning of this?"

  


"He, however, is one," Dana said, as she used the knife they gave her to slice open his neck. Light green blood appeared at the cut, then transformed to a green gas with a hissing sound. The people in the squadron, wearing bio-hazard suits, were the only ones close enough to be affected as they stepped between the director and the other people.

  


The cut closed in front of the Squadron's eyes. Then the director's appearance changed. He became several inches taller, his Romulan face changed to a more Human one, with a square jaw, evil eyes and a cold down turned mouth. He looked directly at Dana - who backed up to get outside the line of fire - and told her, "So you still remember us, do you? Well, you're too late. You'll keep fighting until you're both destroyed. There is no turning back now."

  


Dana, now outside the line of fire, told Palek, "Could you please shut this fucker up?"

  


"Drop him," came Palek's reply and eight flames raced towards the Bounty hunter, who in a matter of a minute turned to nothing but a burning pile of ashes. One Romulan in the squadron, pulled a fire extinguisher from his back and used it on the fire before it could spread.

  


The squadron removed the helmets and Palek ordered the stunned employees against the wall, "You've seen it. Find every single one of these things everywhere within our space and destroy them."

  


"Yes, sir," the people answered and they went back to their seats. Setting up the operation.

  


"I guess that makes me head of the Tal Shiar," Palek told Dana.

  


*****

  


Two days later

Merchant spaceport

  


"So we will allow you a few victories, state that we want peace talks and you'll back off," Palek stated once more to Dana.

  


"Yes, then the diplomats can do their thing," Dana answered.

  


"This merchant ship will bring you, after you've transferred to several other ships along the way, back to Earth," Palek explained. "I don't think you can return to your former post. They'll think you've been turned."

  


"I wasn't really planning on going back there. They've written me off as dead anyway. I'll just get my daughter, and then find a new identity, a new career . . . I was think along the lines of ambassador," Dana said, winking at him.

  


Palek grinned and said, "We've underestimated and misjudged you Humans; you have honor. Remember this, as long as I'm the head of Tal Shiar I will make sure there won't be war between us again. I won't be able to control the military and people in power completely, but I'll find away to keep them from starting an all-out war. But after that . . ."

  


"All bets are off," Dana finished for him when he didn't continue. Than started to walk up the ramp of the ship.

  


"I don't know exactly what that means, but I think you get the idea," Palek told her.

  


"Good bye, Palek," Dana said.

  


"Good bye, Colonel Dahmer. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we never meet again," Palek said as Dana reached the top of the ramp.

  


"Same here," she answered him, then disappeared in the ship. The man at the head of the ramp retracted that same ramp and closed the hatch.

  


~~X~~


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

  


"Captain, I've got a ship on sensors off our port bow," Lt. Palermo said.

  


Dana looked left and the viewer in front of her right eye changed the view accordingly. A distant dot was visible. "Can you identify it, Mr. Palermo?"

  


"No, sir. There is too much interference from the badlands for an identification at this range, sir," she answered, a little upset that she couldn't give her commanding officer better information.

  


Dana looked at the dot for several seconds and decided that something just wasn't right about the reading. She said so as she placed herself at the console nest to Palermo.

  


Everybody looked at her confused, except for Commander Makai, who kept his eye trained on the picture in his viewer, but was equally confused. Dana tapped several buttons, frowned and did it again while muttering, "Ingenious. They must know the badlands very well. Audacious too, attacking a Dominion warship. Then again, the Dominion doesn't care much for its crew, it is war and this is the Badlands."

  


Dana walked back towards the middle of the crew and said, "Admiral, target coordinates 10.04.-13."

  


Palermo checked the new readings that were on her console. "Woah," she said.

  


"Targeted," Admiral Ventura answered.

  


"Mr. Papen, make a lazy, sweeping turn to starboard, nothing threatening, like were turning away from the sensor blip and get ready to turn us towards the coordinates I just gave the Admiral, quickly," Dana ordered relaxed.

  


"Yes, ma'am," Hans answered a little nervous.

  


"Now, Ensign. Admiral," Dana said waiting for Hans to finish the quick turn, ". . . fire."

  


"Firing," the Admiral answered. A large explosion rocked the ship, and as it dissipated, so did the sensor blip in the old position.

  


"Pirates. They used the badlands to mask their position, then use the same badlands to send a reflection of themselves to our port side. As I said, ingenious," Dana explained what the people on the bridge now saw for themselves on their sensor readouts.

  


"Ensign Papen, return us to our original heading," Dana said as he positioned herself in her old spot.

  


"I'm sorry, ma'am. I should've seen that," Lt. Palermo apologized redheaded.

  


"No, you shouldn't, Lieutenant," Dana said relaxed. "From now on, however, you should. From now you should know that seeing the truth sometimes requires piercing through a veil of lies, half-truths, and illusions."

  


~~X~~

  


2251

Starfleet Academy

San Francisco

  


Lieutenant Kirk walked out of the classroom. Gary Mitchell went the other way. Kirk was mulling over the conversation he had with Gary Mitchell about his 'flashes of insight', when he was startled by a female voice.

  


"Interesting lecture, Lieutenant Kirk. I hope you don't mind me listening in?"

  


"Uh . . . no . . . of course not, Admiral. I don't mind at all," answered Kirk, a little embarrassed.

  


"Would you please follow me, Mr. Kirk?" Dana asked him, the question polite, but left no illusions to Kirk that he had any choice in the matter.

  


"Of course, Admiral," Kirk said and started following her. He dodged a student, whom he heard running from behind. The student didn't even bother with explanations or excuses; he just barreled through. Apparently he was late for something important.

  


Kirk looked to his right, and noticed that the Admiral hadn't bothered with slowing down or making any motion to dodge anything or anyone. She just walked straight down the middle of the isle, hands clasped behind her back, a PADD in her left. The steady stream of cadets split apart to pass them on either side, which impressed Kirk, since she had such a diminutive form. The Admiral turned right into another isle and Kirk followed.

  


"Excuse me. Coming through. Excuse me. Coming through," Kirk heard coming from the front. He saw a girl maneuvering through the other cadets. She was moving fast and she was coming right at him. He slowed his pace and quickly tried to move behind the Admiral in order to avoid the girl. He was just a bit too late, because he paused a second to use the opportunity to sneak a peak at Dana's backside. They bumped shoulder to shoulder, both of them almost falling down to the ground.

  


"Sorry," the girl said, she seemed to hesitate a bit as she noticed Dana's admiralty, then said again, "Sorry." And quickly continued on her way, ushering the other students aside as she past through. Kirk saw Dana's face turned toward him and the girl with one eyebrow quirked.

  


Kirk quickly joined Dana's side again, thinking a little embarrassed, *How long has she been looking at me?*

  


He got as answer as he heard her say, "If you keep your eyes level and at the danger at hand, next time you might be able to avoid the collision." He looked at her, seeing her look at him sternly. He was about to turn bright red, when he saw the sternness disappear and her mouth quirk up a little in a disarming smile. He was relieved when he felt the heat that was threatening to turn his cheeks red, recede and he managed a small smile although a shy one.

  


"So . . . you're the resident god, eh?" Dana asked him as she and then he turned left into a much quieter corridor.

  


"Ma'am?" Kirk asked confused.

  


"I'm hearing nothing but praise about you, Mr. Kirk. 'He's got fantastic grades.' 'He already holds a medal for keeping peace negotiations of a planet, long in civil war, on track, which earned him the rank of Lieutenant before he even left the Academy.' Blah blah, blah blah. I think I even heard a 'let's kneel down and worship the ground beneath his feet' somewhere," Dana elaborated, unable to resist the sarcastic comment.

  


This time Kirk did blush, stammering out, "They're exaggerating, ma'am."

  


"Really? So you think I should demote you back to ensign, or perhaps cadet, huh?" Dana dead panned.

  


Kirk looked at her with a disbelieving look on his face. He didn't get anything out of his mouth except, "Uh . . ." Apparently the stories they told about Admiral 'Evil Mirror' Drury were all correct. It was said she always mirrored your own comments back at you until you didn't know what to say anymore, and many times the rest of the class was laughing at you.

  


Kirk saw her head turning his way, a grin plastered on her face. After a few chuckles and making a right turn, she said, "Don't worry, Mr. Kirk. I won't actually demote you. I just get young people to think before they blurt out the first thing that comes to their mind this way."

  


Kirk seemed a little relieved. Dana opened the door to her office. The first room was rather small. There was a door in the back that lead to the actual office. A secretary, a Lieutenant Commander, sat behind the desk in the room.

  


"Want something to drink, Lieutenant? Tea? Coffee? Milk? Beer, perhaps?" Dana asked Kirk.

  


"Uh . . . coffee, please," Kirk answered, not sure whether the beer was joke or not.

  


"Vanessa, bring Mr. Kirk a coffee and a beer for me, would you?" Dana asked her secretary.

  


"Yes, ma'am," the secretary answered.

  


"Thank you," Dana told the secretary and walked through the door in the back wall.

  


Kirk followed her and saw her taking off her uniform top, hung it on an old style iron peg, and from that peg took a jacket and put it on. Then he followed her to her desk. He looked around the spacious office. It had classy wooden frames, a few green plants in the corners, some of which were obviously not from Earth. He looked through the large window; down on the ground, one story below, was a maze of cadets, each trying to get to their respective destinies. Kirk looked further up; in the distance, if he squinted his eyes, he could see the Golden Gate Bridge. The ocean was easily visible from where he stood. He decided it was a beautiful sight.

  


"Sit down, Lieutenant," Dana said as she pulled her chair closer to her neatly organized desk, which was piled with a few stacks of PADDs. One stack had PADDs in all colors and decorations, obviously the papers of students that either needed correcting or had just been corrected. The other stack was neatly grey, and lower; Kirk thought that they were probably official papers from Starfleet.

  


Dana accidentally bumped the desk and the neatly stacked PADDs started to slide down. Dana tried to catch them, but her quick jerky movement caused her to bump the desk again and the stacks quickly spilled across her desk. "Damn!" she cursed. Then, exasperated, she exclaimed, "That's it! I'm going to make sure the manufacturers of these things add knobs or something, because they slide across each other far too easily!"

  


Kirk barely kept himself from laughing out loud; a smile, however, he couldn't suppress.

  


"I'll clean this desk later," Dana sighed as she pushed the PADDs aside to make room on her desk. She placed the PADD she had been carrying on the cleared desk, opened the left side of her jacket and searched its inner pocket with her right hand. She looked stricken and started lifting PADDs off her desk. "Pen. Pen. Pen. Where's my pen? Did you see pen lying on the desk?"

  


"No," Kirk answered as he watched her rummage through the PADDs, apparently getting more and more embarrassed, as if she was afraid of leaving an impression of untidiness. She stood up and felt the other pockets in her jacket. Still unsuccessful, she felt across the rest of her jacket with both her hands. Suddenly she stopped looking and pulled a piece of her jacket up, the outline of a pen was visible. Then she quickly pulled out the inner-pocket of her jacket where a hole could be seen.

  


"Of course," Dana said annoyed, then pushed the intercom button. "Vanessa, bring a pen with you when you bring us our refreshments, will you? Mine fell into my jacket through the hole in my pocket." A giggle followed through the intercom. "That's not funny," Dana said annoyed.

  


"Yes, it is," Vanessa giggled and Dana sighed. Then the intercom went down and the door opened. Vanessa stepped through with a plate carrying a glass of beer and a cup of coffee. She walked across the office and placed the cup of coffee in front of Kirk and then placed the beer in front of Dana. "Here's the pen, ma'am," Vanessa said.

  


"Thank you, Vanessa," Dana said. She grabbed the pen, tapped the PADD with it, then wrote her autograph on her desk. Nothing appeared on the desk though; instead it appeared on the PADD. She pushed her thumb on the thumbprint section of the PADD and handed it to Vanessa. "Get this to Admiral Dowsen."

  


"Any of those?" Vanessa asked indicating the desk.

  


"No, I'll have to re-sort them first," Dana grimaced, then decided to add, "but send a memo to manufacturers of these damn things. Make it sound patronizing; something along the lines of, 'people may only need one because they can download everything into it, but if you're student and you need to deliver several papers to several different teachers, or if you're that teacher who gets a whole lot of PADDs from students, you do need to stack them, so it might be helpful if you make sure they can't slide off each other so easily.' And make a little demonstration, will you? Like me here: a little bump and voila."

  


"Yes, sir. Anything else?" Vanessa asked, unable to suppress the chuckle.

  


"What are you looking at?" Dana asked the question to Kirk.

  


"Uh, nothing, ma'am," Kirk said, a bit insecure.

  


"Lesson number 1: Always say what's on your mind. Spill it?" Dana insisted.

  


"The beer, sir. I was wondering, but it's probably non-alcoholic, right?" Kirk answered demurely.

  


"No, it isn't," Dana answered relaxed.

  


"But the regulations . . ." Kirk started, a bit stricken.

  


"The regulations be damned," Dana interrupted him coolly. "Besides, I can hold my alcohol pretty well."

  


"Pretty well? More like extremely well?" Vanessa grinned. Then added to Kirk, "You should've seen it. It was a few years back, there was this guy - first year cadet back then - what was his name? Mo . . . Mi . . . no . . ."

  


"Montgomery Scot," Dana supplied.

  


"Yeah, that was it. It was a few weeks into the first semester, and he had boasted, after drinking a few people under the table, that he could do the same to everybody in the Academy. It went around the Academy pretty quickly, of course," Vanessa said, grinning as she remembered.

  


"I just couldn't let him get away with that," Dana grinned at Kirk.

  


"So, one weekend she went right ahead and drank this guy under the table. Five hours in a row, nothing but Scotch after Scotch after Scotch. And she was drunk, but that was it, she could still stand and walk relatively straight. Suffice it to say the cadet lost," Vanessa laughed.

  


"That depends on how you look at it," Dana grinned mischievously. "I think he'd say he'd won; I would say the same thing."

  


"Oah, so the rumors are true, you did sleep with him!" Vanessa exclaimed.

  


Dana shrugged and said, "He intrigued me. It's been a long time since I saw somebody drink like that, and still be conscious enough to remember it the next morning. Now, shoo Vanessa, you've got things to do."

  


"Yes, ma'am!" Vanessa answered and walked out the room.

  


Dana grinned at Kirk, who was decidedly uncomfortable. "Don't worry, Kirk. I won't bite . . . unless you want me to."

  


"No, I don't want you to, actually," Kirk half stammered.

  


"Good, then we can get started. I've heard you want to become a captain?" Dana asked sincerely, nothing of the grin was left on her face.

  


"Yes, ma'am, I do," Kirk answered with conviction.

  


"Well then, in order to be a good captain, you must be able to do a few things. I'm going to teach you one. How much do you actually believe that little lecture about the Romulan war you gave, Mr. Kirk?" Dana asked.

  


Kirk looked confused, then answered, "What is there to believe? It's historical fact."

  


"Really? Tell me something, Kirk. How far away are Romulus and Remus?" Dana asked, smiling at him.

  


"Sixty-six light-years," Kirk answered immediately.

  


"Very good. So . . . how long did it take for them to get here?" Dana asked, with a tone that told him, 'think'.

  


"At least sixty-six years. They had no warp," Kirk answered just as assuredly.

  


"Yes. Now think, Mr. Kirk. Sixty-six years, what would that mean to the people on board, hmm?" Dana asked, urging Kirk on to think for himself.

  


"They would have aged, but with the Romulans life-span, that wouldn't be such a problem," Kirk answered.

  


"You're still not thinking, Kirk. What would age as well, besides the crew?" Dana probed.

  


"Uh . . . the ships?" Kirk asked more than answered, not knowing what she was getting at.

  


"Yes, the ships, but more importantly, what are the ships made of?" Dana asked again.

  


"Bulkheads, hull-plates, engines . . ." Kirk started.

  


"No! No! No!" Dana interrupted him, "Not so specific . . . Technology, Mr. Kirk. The ship's technology . . . Compare the technology we have now with the technology we had sixty-six years ago."

  


Kirk's face lighted up; he was starting to understand where she was going. "Their ships would have been obsolete."

  


"Exactly. And more than that, sixty-six years of never-ending space travel would have put a severe strain on their vessels. Their ships would be virtually falling apart by the hinges by the time they got here, and the ships back home would have been infinitely more superior. But there is more that ages with time, Mr. Kirk," Dana said, looking intently at him. Kirk stayed silent, racking his brain, but he couldn't come up with anything. "Come on, Kirk. What don you need before you can attack?"

  


Kirk though long and hard, then feebly answered, "I don't know."

  


"Think, Lieutenant. If you're going to attack, what do you want to know?" Dana asked him intently.

  


Kirk thought for a moment, then answered, "Intelligence reports. Intelligence reports age with time; they, too, would have been obsolete."

  


"Finally. So I ask you, why would the Romulans attack us with non-warp capable ships that would have been obsolete by the time they got here? Expecially since by the time they got here what they knew they were going to find would have been gone - the targets, the ships and their capacities would have been completely different? Which means the fleet they took with them would have been all wrong for what they would encounter, wouldn't it? Not to mention the fact, that they required massive resupply vessels and food carriers for a prolonged - say four years - war. Have you ever seen such vessels in historical records, Lt. Kirk?" Dana asked him pointedly.

  


"No, I haven't," Kirk said.

  


"Which must result in the simple conclusion that . . .?" Dana asked, before Kirk could add anything.

  


"That the Romulans did have warp drive. But why didn't they use it?" Kirk asked as if he had just had a revelation from god himself.

  


"The Romulans outnumbered us, didn't they?" Dana asked, smiling at him, urging him to figure it out himself.

  


Kirk's shocked face showed, he understood, "We would have to quickly build new vessels to equal them in numbers - building vessels without warp drive would have been faster. If we'd done that, we would have lost. They would have warped passed us to a virtually unprotected Earth. Thank god, we got lucky."

  


"Lucky?" Dana said, sighed deeply, then placed her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her heads. "What do I do with you, Mr. Kirk? I've shown you there's a meters thick concrete wall of secrets and half-truths with an equally thick locked door, in between you and the truth. I've unlocked the door for you, but you refuse to step through it." Dana waited for a few seconds then - when only silence came forth - added, "Why do you think we didn't stop building warp-capable ships, Mr. Kirk? Wouldn't it have been stupid to do otherwise?"

  


Kirk looked confused for a moment, then his face lighted up. "We knew . . . we knew the Romulans had warp drive. But why was it kept secret?" Kirk asked. "Wait, I know: to keep up morale. 'Look, we've got superior technology; we'll win this war yet'."

  


"Very good, Lieutenant. Now, do you understand that if you want to become a good starship captain, you can't fall for every little illusion? You'd fall in every dangerous situation or trap. Sometimes, in order to see the truth - and make the right decision - you must see thought a veil of lies, illusions, and half-truths. Do you understand that, Lieutenant?" Dana asked him.

  


Kirk nodded.

  


"Good. You're dismissed, Mr. Kirk. Go and contemplate what I just told you . . . Oh, and what you just learned is still secret, Lieutenant. No blabbing," Dana told him, wiggling her a warning index finger.

  


"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir," Kirk answered, and sipped away the last of the coffee that he had been drinking during the conversation.

  


~~X~~

  


Dana stood on the bridge, still looking at the little screen in front of her right eye. The trip was rather boring - once in a while there'd be a bump, sometimes even turbulence, but nothing that she considered interesting. She knew there had to be a lot people operating from within and in the badlands - like the pirate that tried to attack them before - but since the badlands heavily interfered with sensors, they could practically be skitting passed them and not notice. So, since it would still be more than a day before they reached the edge of the badlands, she let her mind wander.

  


~~X~~

  


2341

Romulus

  


"Palek," Scully said relaxed, as she placed herself next to him on the bench in the park and pulled her hood back.

  


"Dana," Palek answered, her true name given to him on one of their other encounters. He looked her over. The black robe covered her completely. Before she sat down, she had moved so silently - almost as if she had been gliding across the floor instead of walking - that he had almost expect the hood to reveal a skull, and scythe to appear from somewhere within the robe. He scolded himself -- the Human representation of 'Death' was one of the myths and legends of Humans that he had studied, so it could be used in their interrogations. It was a marvel what some - mostly spiritual or religious - Humans would say when faced with 'Death' himself. He should know Death arriving couldn't happen, but his time was short, he was over two hundred twenty years old; he was all too aware that death was creeping up on him.

  


"You've aged," Dana said coolly, as she appraised his greyed features.

  


"And you, as usual, have not," Palek answered, his voice laced with age, looking over Dana's features; the same ageless face looked back at him. Of course, there were a few changes, but they were not on behalf of time, but on behalf of a different identity. Her hair was blonde now - as opposed to the black hair she had last time - and unlike last time her hair was cut short, just long enough to move fingers through.

  


"You called for me?" Dana asked gently, looking around the park. In the dark it looked like any park on Earth; dark and foreboding, but she knew that during the day it would seem dull, almost greyish instead of the bright green colors of Earth.

  


He chuckled, then said, "We have a strange relation you and I, don't we? We trust each other totally, yet we distrust each other completely. We're the best of friends, yet bitter enemies."

  


"Respected enemies," Dana corrected, smiling at him.

  


He grinned back and nodded. "There's a Preator in power at the moment: Preator Dralath. He is very dishonorable, interested in power only and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, which would most likely be the removal of the emperor and the royal family and him in power. He would even start wars, if that's what it would take to get his goal."

  


"Aah, and you would like him removed. But why, Palek, call me? It is not as if you haven't assassinated your share of people."

  


"The people I trusted are all dead or gone, Dana. Old age, retirement, accidents - some under suspicious circumstances . . . Only I remain. And there are those who would want nothing more than to have me removed as head of the Tal Shiar and themselves in that position. An attempt on the Preator's life is all they'd need to have me removed out of that position in some fashion," Palek explained slowly.

  


"I see . . . Is there a time table?"

  


"Ten years would be sufficient. I think I can keep him from doing anything big for that long," Palek answered.

  


"I take it, you'd like it to be an accident, or something natural?" Dana asked relaxed.

  


"That would be preferable."

  


"Consider him dead or dying," Dana answered coolly.

  


Palek looked to her a little startled. That last statement came from his back and he hadn't heard her getting up or walking. Of course she was no longer sitting on the bench. He looked behind and saw no sign of her. He smiled, got up and walked away, thinking, *And they say 'Death' is just a myth.*

  


*****

  


2 months later

A parade

  


The parade was set up to distract the general populace. There had already been several problems across the Star Empire and the general public was starting to grumble. What better way to appease the masses than to add a national holiday with a nice parade?

  


Finding out about the dormant genes in the Preator's genetic structure that could cause T'Shevat's syndrome was easy; creating the virus that would activate those genes just as easy. Adding this virus to the venom in the closest thing Romulus had to a bee only a little less easy, and getting the tiny piece of technology that was now on the insect's head and would control it was even easier, since she had already brought it with her. It was part of a ninja's standard equipment; not surprising since the technology existed since the 1990s. What caused her the most difficulty was modifying this little machine to control this Romulan insect instead of his Terran counterpart, but even that was done.

  


She still wore the same hooded robe and was hunched over like a little old lady, so she could watch the small screen on the machinery's controller without being noticed. The crowd around her was watching the parade, which was uncharacteristically colorful for Romulans. The Preator was on the other side of the street, siting on a risen podium, smiling broadly.

  


Dana maneuvered the insect to the Preator's neck. Once it landed, she pushed the button that would make the insect sting. The Preator moved his hand to slab the insect, but was too late to stop it from stinging his neck. Dana saw the Preator in the distance looking at his hand, which held the dead insect, then after muttering a few words - undoubtedly something along the lines of 'Damn, insect' - dropped it to the ground.

  


Dana pushed a second button on the controller. A few tiny force fields would drop inside the device, releasing a small amount - not much more than a drop - of acid, which would subsequently destroy the device completely. No sense in leaving any evidence, even if the chance of it ever being found was virtually non existent.

  


A little smile crept on her face, as she whispered, "Happy T'Shevat's syndrome, Preator."

  


"Excuse me, may I pass?" Dana croaked out, mimicking an old lady's voice. A few people moved aside. "Thank you," she said, grinning to herself. After a few more 'excuse mes', she stepped into an empty side street, gently rose up and walked away.

  


~~X~~

  


Things were going all right. They were starting to get close to the edge of the badlands and everybody who could was sleeping, standing and hanging on the console. Even Ensign Papen was out, his duties temporarily taken over by Kovar, who, as a Vulcan, could go far longer without sleep. Dana allowed herself no such luxury; she had to be ready if something threatened to go wrong.

  


*It's going to start soon,* Dana thought.

  


~~X~~

  


April 2161

Dreamland 2

  


Admiral Berman walked into the mountain complex, not knowing what to expect. A month ago, all national governments fell under a planetary one, and then this brand new planetary government fell beneath the United Federation of Planets government, a body known as the Federation council. All national military and intelligence agencies were disbanded with the governments and then united under the planetary government, making Earth Command - the joined platform those agencies had been working under since the first threat from the Romulans - a lot simpler: one navy, one intelligence agency, one space force, one army. No longer different agencies from different nations bickering over what to do. Then Earth Command itself was disbanded, to be replaced by an interplanetary organization named Starfleet; the joined exploratory and military organization of this new United Federation of Planets.

  


He had to admit, it was a grand plan, but he wasn't all too sure if it would work. Until just a few months ago there were still separate national governments, and not all nations were all that friendly toward other nations. And now not only would they have to be content with an planetary government, but also an interplanetary one, basically giving the Vulcans, Andorians and the other five races that made up this Federation some say in what happens on Earth.

  


Then his rank was changed to Admiral - since this Starfleet had no rank named General - and he was ordered to this place, Dreamland 2, by one of the few people who outranked him. That was strange in itself, because other than him, five lower ranking officers and Colonel Shane Dahmer, he hadn't thought anyone else even knew of this place. He was obviously wrong, since this place was practically buzzing with activity.

  


*Colonel Shane Dahmer,* he mused, abducted by the Romulans, presumed dead and at least unsalvageable, then suddenly a few months later she was standing in front of him again, demanding to know where her daughter was. At first he had thought she had been turned by the Romulans. The first attempt at capturing her proved futile; the operatives had been put unconscious before they had even come close to subduing her. A second attempt could never be started. Under threat of a sword, he had told her the address of the orphanage in which her daughter resided. Then he had tried reasoning with her, to make her see that the only way the Romulans would have let her go was if they had made her comply to their wishes. She had laughed at his comments and with chilling certainty she had answered, "If it wasn't for me, the Battle of Cheron wouldn't have been the end of the war, it would have been its rebirth." Then, when she was about to leave, he had asked her what she was going to do. Her answer: "I was thinking about a career change. I was thinking along the lines of a career in diplomacy; I've never been an Ambassador before." Then she had winked and was gone, all attempts at tracking her had failed, and he had no idea where she was now.

  


"Aah, Admiral Berman. It's good to see you," a familiar voice called out to him. He turned towards it and . . .

  


"Shane," he exclaimed in shock, recognizing her after a second. She may have changed her hair color to chestnut brown and taken a complete new haircut and wardrobe, but it was still her.

  


"Eh . . . you must confusing me with someone else, Admiral," Dana answered perfectly, sticking out her right hand for a handshake. "I'm Julie Duffield, Ambassador Julie Duffield."

  


Berman to her hand and shook and saw Dana wink at him rapidly. "Admiral Robert Berman," Berman said in order to keep up the facade Dana had prompted him.

  


"Well, Admiral, follow me," Dana said as she turned around and walked in the direction of the main operations lounge of Dreamland 2. "And may I say welcome to Section 31."

  


"Section 31?" Berman asked, confused. He looked at technicians upgrading Dreamland 2's systems. "I've never heard of Section 31, or seen it mentioned in any of the paperwork."

  


"That's because Section 31 does not exist, Admiral. And neither will you if you take this job," Dana answered him. "Some of the Ambassadors, including me, and several of the military officers thought that standard Starfleet Intelligence was not enough. We need something special; a section that could operate in the shadows, bending every rule right up to, but just short of, breaking them. A section manned by the best and the brightest, filled with those who would be willing to sacrifice anything for the security of the Federation and the principles for which it stands. In short: Section 31."

  


"What did you mean, with 'I won't exist'," Berman asked her intrigued.

  


Dana grinned and answered him, "If you take this job, all your records will be deleted. It is as if you were never born and officially you were never born. Every other member of Section 31 will be the same; either that, or they're dead and buried, right down to a grave with a rotting lifeless cloned body. And one of your tasks is to see it remains that way, should you take the job, of course."

  


"What would be my other tasks?"

  


"In the beginning Section 31's tasks will be mostly anti-terrorism, and this will undoubtedly remain one of Section's most important tasks. As time progresses espionage, infiltration and manipulation of foreign powers will become part of Section's tasks as well. This, of course, can already start with the Romulans. Listen to your junior officers, Admiral. Many of them have ingenious ideas; that's why they were recruited and further: anything you can come up with and think is necessary for the survival of the Federation. So, can I write you down as the first head of Section 31 or not?" Dana asked.

  


Berman thought for a moment, then answered, "Count me in."

  


"Good," Dana said. "Get to your office, I have prepared a very special briefing for you, that only you get to see. It will show you something nobody else knows, it has in part to do with my involvement in the Romulan war."

  


"Will you be here as well?" Berman asked.

  


"Oh, no! I've neglected Ellen enough during the war and setting up the Federation. As soon as Dreamland 2 is upgraded, I'm gone. I'll settle down somewhere in the country-side and devote as much of my time as possible to my daughter," Dana answered.

  


~~X~~


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

  


"Wormhole dead ahead," Ensign Papen announced. The vision of the spherical contraption, with a few dozen ships - twenty-five warships and the rest mostly engineering vessels - filled Dana's and Commander Makai's right eyes.

  


"All right, Ensign. Change course bearing 063, mark 010. Once we clear the Badlands accelerate to Warp 5," Dana ordered.

  


"Aye, sir," Hans answered.

  


"That course is not directed at the wormhole," Commander Makai observed.

  


"No, flying directly at it might attract unwanted attention. We'll wiggle our way towards the wormhole," Dana explained.

  


"Leaving Badlands. Accelerating to Warp 5," Ensign Papen announced.

  


"Captain," Kovar said, "I'm reading three Dominion warships changing course to intercept us."

  


"They're hailing us," Lieutenant Palermo stated.

  


"Show it on our screens," Dana immediately said.

  


Everybody turned towards Dana and Makai as they watched the message. A Vorta appeared on their screens and he said, "Thank the Founders! We've been searching for days for you. What happened?"

  


Dana pushed a button on the console in front of her: the ship wide intercom. "We've been made! Everybody evacuate to the Runabout immediately!" Dana ordered. When most of the people on the bridge looked at her, stunned, she barked, "NOW! That's an order! Move it!"

  


'Aye sirs' sounded through the intercom and from the bridge as they started to move off of it. "Palermo, Ventura, Makai. You three stay here a minute!" Dana hurriedly stated.

  


"Lieutenant, download your holographic program to the runabout. Hurry!" Dana ordered quickly. Palermo started pushing buttons.

  


"What's the plan?" Makai asked.

  


"It won't take long before our friends out there find out about our modification and then they'll know something's wrong. They'll undoubtedly talk to you about the Changeling, and make threats. Tell them you won't deal, because as long as you've got him they won't shoot, because that would kill one of their gods. Then, you Palermo, create a nice show of a Changeling creating havoc. Then get out of the ship and go to the Badlands at maximum speed. Two seconds you've got to avoid them, then I'll engage this ship. Since you've told them the Founder's an insurance policy and thus you won't kill him, they'll come after me. Once you're in the Badlands, get yourself to Federation space as fast as possible. Got that?" Dana explained rapidly.

  


The three of them nodded once.

  


"Admiral," Dana said as she removed her katana from within her Ambassadorial robes and handed it to him. "If you make it to the Federation alive, get this to Duncan MacLeod - two years ago he was still an Ambassador - and give him the coordinates of the wormhole as well. He'll know what to do."

  


"Yes, Captain," Admiral Ventura answered.

  


"Commander, take this. It contains the virus designed for the Cardassian and the Dominion computer cores," Dana told him as he took the isolinear rod from her. "Now get to the runabout!" Dana ordered them.

  


Once they were off the bridge, Dana walked towards the helm. She pressed a few buttons so it also included navigation and tactical. Then she pushed another few buttons and the text 'Safety overrides complete, maximum g-force allowance: 12 g' scrolled across the console. Once done, she pulled the safety harness from the console - installed so the bridge crew could keep standing during the most bumpy rides - put it on and linked it to the console.

  


Then she pushed more buttons and flooded the bridge with high intensity radiation, harmless to her, since her Quickening absorbed the radiation, but it would hamper sensor readings and effectively make everybody believe there was nobody left on board.

  


*****

  


"Sir," the Jem'Hadar said.

  


"Yes?" the Vorta asked, hopeful. They had hailed the missing ship several times and recieved no answer. At first he had thought they simply had problems with their communications, but the ship hadn't given as little as a light signal - and he could still see lights shining on the ship. He was getting worried.

  


"Scans of the bridge are difficult; it is flooded with high intensity radiation," the Jem'Hadar answered.

  


"What?" the Vorta said as he paled; if the level of intensity was high enough, it could even kill a founder. "How high?"

  


"High enough. There is more. There is a small vessel in the cargo hold, and there is a large hatch installed there," the Jem'Hadar said.

  


"How's that possible?" the Vorta asked again.

  


"I'm reading life-signs," the Jem'Hadar continued.

  


"Yes?" the Vorta again asked, hopeful.

  


"In the small vessel. It's a Federation runabout. The life signs are mostly Human, Bolian, Vulcan and Andorian too - twenty in total," the Jem'Hadar answered gruffly.

  


"Hail them," the Vorta commanded, then added softly, "The Founder must've flooded the bridge so the Federation people couldn't use it."

  


"Hailing frequencies open, sir," another Jem'Hadar said, while the first nodded.

  


"If you've hurt or killed the Founder you will pay the consequences," the Vorta fumed. "If not, you will release him. Immediately!"

  


On his little screen the scene changed to the bridge of the Runabout. "What?! Do you think we're crazy?!" Commander Makai said, sitting comfortably in the middle chair. "As long as we've got your god here alive and well, you don't dare fire at us."

  


Suddenly an orange tentacle wrapped around Makai's neck. He started to gurgle as he was lifted out of the chair. A phaser shot hit the tentacle and it released the commander, then screeches and shouts could be heard. Then Commander Makai shouted, "Helm! Get us out of here!" After that the screen went back towards the visual of the warship.

  


"The hatch is opening," the Jem'Hadar at the sensor console said.

  


"I can see that! Tractor the runabout as soon as it tries to escape," the Vorta snapped. Then he watched as the runabout suddenly appeared out of the cargo hold and almost immediately jumped to warp, directly towards the Badlands. "Follow it!" he ordered.

  


After a few seconds the Jem'Hadar exclaimed, "The warship just jumped to Warp 9 and is headed directly towards the wormhole!"

  


"What!? Turn around, we have to stop it. They must've programmed a flight path . . . it's going to crash into to the wormhole. Tell all the others to intercept the ship at all costs - fly into it, if necessary! Try the override codes," the Vorta blurted out, as he felt the ship lurch to catch up with the rogue ship.

  


"The ship's shields have been reconfigured to block communications signals," the Jem'Hadar answered.

  


*****

  


*Well, that was easy,* Dana thought as she constantly guided her ship directly towards the wormhole, changing course repeatedly to avoid most of the weapons fire. All twenty-five warships were in between her and the wormhole, with the exception of the three that were behind and pursuing her. With every hit the shields' power diminished, but most of the shots went wide; after all, it was difficult hitting something that was moving at Warp 9 and as erratically as she was. With every turn her body protested against the g-forces working on it.

  


Two of the ships were moving to intercept her, apparently on a suicide run to collide with her. She grinned and programmed the ship to turn on the side, stay that way for two tenths of a second, then turn back to level. That's exactly what the ship did. It took all of her self-control to handle the g-forces without passing out. The two ships crashed into each other behind her and exploded in a brilliant ball of fire.

  


By now there were eight ships behind her and still fifteen in front of her. Five vessels in front of tried to box her in. A corkscrew at Warp 9.4 took her past them, while they effectively - or, from their point of view, ineffectively - blew up a ship behind her. Another ship behind her crashed into one of the five now also behind her, leaving ten in front and ten behind.

  


Eight of them came at her from all sides. She suddenly made a wide swing to starboard, passing them all by. She stayed there for a second longer then absolutely necessary before returning to the heading that took her directly to the middle of the wormhole. The eight ships, with their inertial dampers to full, weren't half as maneuverable. When they attempted to turn to her new path, then needed to turn back to her old one, as she did so too. They did all of that while turning around to follow her back the way they came. This made for some very strange and unpredictable movements, which caused three of the ships behind her to crash into the eight ships that were busy trying to follow her. One other ship from the group behind her flew straight into one of the torpedoes that was fired by the eight. Two others, both trying to avoid hitting a ship, didn't see each other and exploded as they collided.

  


This left nine ships following her from behind and two coming at her from the front. Her ship lurched several times as it was hit by weapons' fire from behind. Dana maneuvered her ship upward quickly, passing both ships in front of her, then rapidly descended her ship back to its original position. These two were a bit smarter and stayed in the same position; they just turned around and followed her.

  


Dana saw it happening. The engineering ships rapidly moved themselves in between her and the wormhole - some even made quick warp jumps. She groaned as she forced her ship out of warp and she was pressed forward in the harness. The two ships directly behind her, even if they heard the Vorta order for blocking Dana's path, simply couldn't slow down fast enough and exploded as they impacted with the engineering vessels.

  


Dana started maneuvering her ship past the engineering vessels at sub-light-speed. Aside from her, only one other vessel managed to get through the turmoil of little and large ships intact. Dana moved her ship to the left, entering the sphere that comprised the artificial wormhole. She fired all weapons and started the ship in a loop; following the ring. After one quarter of the circle, she pushed a button on the console. The male computer voice announced in Dominion standard language. "Warning, warp core breach in ten seconds . . . 9 . . ."

  


The ship was being shaken heavily, both from the torpedoes exploding on the sphere of the wormhole and from the weapons' fire from the last Dominion warship.

  


"8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . ."

  


"Almost. Just a bit more. Come on, girl. You can do it," Dana said to her ship as she heard the metal screeching.

  


"4 . . .. 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . ." The ship completed the circle and Dana steered it directly towards the sphere. When the computer announced '1' Dana pushed the last button and quickly disappeared in a transporter beam. The head-mounted little screen - without Dana there to keep it in place - suddenly flew forward, just before the explosion reduced it to sub-atomic particles.

  


*****

  


Dana materialized about twenty million kilometers away from the wormhole inside the environmental suit she had prepared for just such an occasion. She looked towards the artificial wormhole and saw the two ships crash into the engineering ships. Directly behind them, she herself started maneuvering through the maze of ships.

  


"You just have to love the efficiency of Dominion transporters," she muttered, before starting to laugh to herself.

  


Suddenly the sight changed; it was like two sights overlaid each other. One still of her avoiding crashing into the engineering ships, the other of the wormhole exploding. She quickly checked the sensors on her left arm.

  


*Subspace shockwave. And the photons are riding its edge,* was the last thing she thought before the subspace shockwave washed through her. She was pulled along for a few seconds and a few million kilometers before she dropped back to sub-light speeds.

  


As Dana hurled through space she heard her suit ripping, air hissing away and the ever annoying computer voice warning her, "Warning, air pressure dropping. Warning, air pressure dropping. Warning . . ."

  


Then nothing, as there was no more air for the sound to move through. The water in her body started to evaporate rapidly and as it did so, it dropped in temperature even more rapidly. Dana felt her body rapidly freezing solid and the incredible pain as cell after cell froze over. It was like billions of microscopic needles piercing her skin. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. Then her mouth and head too froze over and she tumbled further through space with the horrible silent scream frozen on her face.

  


*****

Several Minutes Earlier

The Badlands

  


"The Dominion ships have broken off pursuit and turned to follow the captain, sir," Kovar calmly stated.

  


"All stop. Turn us around and show us what's happening," commander Makai ordered.

  


A few 'aye sirs' sounded and the runabout came to a halt, then slowly turned around to face the edge of the Badlands. The screen switched, showing Dana's ship quickly turning on its side, and turning back as two other Dominion ships whizzed past her, then exploded as they collided behind her ship.

  


"Holy crap!" Hans exclaimed. "I didn't know Dominion ships could do that!"

  


"They can not," Kovar answered calmly. "Not without allowing approximately eight gs within the ship." Dana's vessel did a sharp corkscrew manouevre past some more vessels. "Twelve gs," Kovar calmly stated.

  


"Jesus Christ," Admiral Ventura muttered.

  


At exactly the same time Commander Makai said, "By Tomar."

  


For the next few minutes everybody, except Kovar, looked at the screen in awe as Dana's ship repeatedly avoided destruction. Then it looped, following the shape of the Wormhole generator. The ship got closer and closer to the place where it started the manouevre, but made no indication of altering course or slowing.

  


"She isn't going to do what I think she's going to do, is she?" Admiral Ventura asked, sharing a look with Commander Makai. They looked back at the screen and saw what they both dreaded; the ship crashed into the burning wormhole-generator and exploded in a blinding flash.

  


"My god! There's no way she survived that," Lieutenant Palermo stated empathically (empathetically).

  


"Perhaps she did," Kovar stated still as calm as ever. "I have detected a beam-out."

  


"What? Where to?" Ventura asked.

  


"Space, sir," Kovar said, his voice betraying nothing. "I am scanning the area now, sir."

  


"Space?" Ventura asked, incredulously, "In order to survive in space . . ."

  


"You need a . . ." Commander Makai was about to finish, when Commander Bolo's voice came through Makai's commbadge almost as an answer.

  


"Commander," he stated.

  


"Right here," Makai answered, after he tapped his commbadge.

  


"I don't how to tell you this, so . . . We're missing an environmental suit," Bolo said.

  


"What?" Makai said, dumbfounded.

  


"Commander, I've finished my scans of the region. I've detected one set of Human life-signs, female," Kovar said coolly, then swiveled his chair around to face the commander. He continuing with his left eyebrow raised, "in an environmental suit."

  


The Admiral chuckled and quoted, "'I always have a backup plan . . .'"

  


"' . . .and if it's in anyway possible, my backup plan will have a backup plan,'" Makai finished the quote both grinning and laughing.

  


"Sodeju!" Hans cursed, laughing as well. "Who the hell is this woman? Some kind of top secret Special Forces Commando, or something?"

  


"Probably," the Admiral said, chuckling.

  


"Commander, I am detecting a sub-space shockwave coming from the wormhole-generator. It's headed directly for the captain," Kovar told everybody coolly. "It will impact in 8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . impact." Everybody on the bridge, except Kovar once again, looked stricken. "She's being pulled along. Now at Warp 2 . . . She has been released from the shockwave, which is dissipating."

  


"Status Dominion ships?" Makai asked urgently.

  


"No Dominion ship near the wormhole-generator has survived its destruction, sir," Ensign Kovar answered neutrally.

  


"Helm, set a course for the Captain and get us there as fast as possible," Commander Makai ordered.

  


"Yes, sir!" Hans exclaimed, the delight in his voice betraying his approval.

  


"Sir, I am no longer picking up the Captain's life-signs," Kovar stated, still as emotionless as ever. The rest of the bridge crew's faces paled slightly.

  


"We're here!" Ensign Papen exclaimed as they dropped out of warp next to a tumbling Dana Scully.

  


"Beaming her to sickbay, and the environmental suit to engineering," Admiral Ventura relayed.

  


Commander Makai stood up and placed a hand on Ensign Papen's shoulder, subconsciously mimicking Dana, and told him, "Get us back in the badlands deeply, Ensign, and hurry."

  


"Yes, sir," Hans answered, already pushing the buttons to do so.

  


The Admiral and the Commander left the bridge, and after a moment's hesitation, Lieutenant Palermo followed them. It took them a few seconds to get to the sickbay. Once they entered, the Admiral and the Commander asked as one, without even looking where Doctor Marcus or Dana was, "Well?"

  


"She's as dead as a doornail," Marcus - standing at a console - answered without even looking at them.

  


Lieutenant Susanna Palermo, who came in behind them, gasped at the grizzly scene. Dana lay there, as if frozen in time. As it was, however, she was only frozen. Her legs were in a totally odd position - as if they had been flailing - her arms were stretched upward - as if she had been trying to ward off something - and her face was contorted in fear and pain, a silent scream was frozen in place. She paled and wanted to vomit, but managed to keep her food in, just barely. The gasp caused Admiral Paul Ventura and Commander Makai to look at the body; they visibly paled as well.

  


"Isn't there something you can do? I mean, isn't she basically cryogenically frozen?" the Admiral asked, stricken at the cold behavior of the doctor.

  


"First of all," Marcus said turning around to face them, gesturing with a PADD he was holding, "even if she was cryogenically frozen, I wouldn't be able to help her because this one man, tin can, excuse for a sickbay doesn't have the necessary capacities to do so." Marcus made a gesture for them to look at the small cabin with only one bed. "Second of all," Marcus continued, irritated at the Admiral's lack of medical knowledge, "she's not even close to being cryogenically frozen. When the air pressure disappeared, all the water in her body vaporized immediately, destroying every cell in her body - quite effectively killing her at the same moment - and then, when the water froze, it froze her too."

  


"Why is it so cold in here?" Lieutenant Palermo asked.

  


"Cold? It's almost warm," Doctor Marcus answered.

  


"No, it isn't," Commander Makai told the doctor with a look that said, 'You're probably sucking all the warmth away.'

  


"Look," the Doctor started as he moved towards them. "Just like in the rest of the ship it's nine- What the . . .?" Marcus said, as he felt the room getting colder as he came closer to Dana's body. He quickly stepped toward her and wave the medical tricorder over her. His eyes widened, then he muttered, "This can't be right."

  


"What is it?" Ventura asked, not understanding.

  


Marcus made a gesture to wait as he turned around and exchanged tricorders. When the new tricorder too showed the exact same readings he gasped out, "This is impossible."

  


"What?!" Ventura insisted.

  


"According to these readings, her body temperature has risen forty-five degrees and is rising at about fifteen degrees per minute and the warmth of the room is being used to do it. I'm reading electrical currents that I can't explain, but they're repairing the cells in her body - the water is being drawn back in them. It's almost as if she's carrying the spark that caused life to form billions of years ago inside of her . . . This is incredible!" the sturdy Doctor Marcus exclaimed in awe.

  


"What are you saying?" Commander Makai asked.

  


"I'm saying, her body is regenerating itself. If this keeps up, she'll be up to normal body temperature in about a quarter of an hour!" Marcus said, excitedly. He checked the readings again to make sure. "Wait a minute, the rate of the temperature increase is diminishing," Marcus said, frowning. He looked around if he could find something different than a few minutes ago. Suddenly his eyes widened with revelation and he said, "Computer, raise temperature around the body to thirty-five degrees Celsius and keep it there." The computer chirped. He felt the temperature rising and he saw on the readout of his tricorder that the temperature increase in Dana's body was rising again. By the time he was sweating from the heat it was even a little higher than before. He put his tricorder down and just watched with the others, dumbfounded.

  


For six minutes they all just stood there, not able to acknowledge to themselves that what they seeing was real. They just stood there, two of them with mouths agape, not knowing what to do, looking at drops of water falling from the supposedly dead body. Little puddles started forming on the bed as the soft material began to saturate with water in those places. Once the six minutes were over though, Dana's left arm slowly started moving downward, a few seconds later so started her right arm and another few seconds later her legs started moving downward. Of course, this caused Dana's clothes, still as frozen as before, to shatter and fall to the floor, revealing Dana's bare arms and shapely legs.

  


This prompted Doctor Zeke Marcus to take action. He tapped his commbadge and said, "Sickbay to transporter room."

  


"Yes, sir?" the voice on the other end asked.

  


"Can you beam the captain's clothes off of her?" the Doctor asked.

  


"Sure, what do you want me to do with it?" the transporter operator asked.

  


"Make like a replicator and add the energy to the ship's reserves," the Doctor told him a little cheerful. The four of them watched as Dana's clothes dissolved into the blue light of the transporter, revealing Dana's naked body. Her arms and legs were now lying normally on the bed. Her mouth started closing; so, too, did her eyes. Slowly the expression on her face lost all its pain. Now she just seemed to be asleep.

  


"Lieutenant," Marcus said.

  


"Huh," Susanna said as she was violently ripped from her reverie.

  


"Go replicate a large towel, two small ones and new clothes for the captain. I've got a feeling she's going to need them," Marcus said, and as he watched Palermo start to turn he added, "Make them warm, she'll appreciate it."

  


"Yes, sir," she answered and left the sickbay for the replicator.

  


After she was gone Admiral Ventura said, looking at the pale skin slowly regaining color, "Like looking at an angel."

  


"Like a Limat," Makai said. When he noticed them looking at him, he said, "Magical beings that couldn't die and pop up in some of our myths and legends."

  


Palermo walked back in with the stack of clothes, towels, and two boots. When the three men looked closer they noticed that it was a Starfleet Captain's uniform. Palermo saw them looking and said, "I figured she better be wearing what the job calls for her to wear."

  


"Holy shit," Marcus said, looking at the readings, but still not quite believing it, even if he had predicted it would happen, "Her body temperature is thirty-two degrees and her kidneys have started their normal work, her liver, her intestines . . . her heart is beating . . . I'm reading brain activity . . ."

  


Suddenly Dana said bolt upright, gasping for air. Then closed her hand around herself, started shivering and said, "C-c-c-c-co-o-old." Her eyes widened and suddenly she started pulling at her hair, as best as she could with shaking and shivering hands. "Aaah," she screamed. For her - as with all Humans - dead hair was outside of her healing capacities and was still freezing cold, hurting her skin. Luckily the brittle into icy chunks of hair fell of rather easily. Once her head was free of the offending cold, she rubbed away her eyebrows. Then suddenly she noticed her pubic hair - the larger surface of hair-covered skin of her head must have covered it before. "A-a-au-uw," she screamed, still shaking like a leaf and jumped off the bed. Immediately she started rubbing between her legs in order to get the offending cold away.

  


Dana leaned back against the raised bed and, as the last of her pubic hair fell to the ground, sighed contentedly, while saying, "Oah, th-a-at's b-b-b-et-t-t-t-t-errrr."

  


They had all looked stunned as Dana had started to pull at her hair, but now Palermo came back to senses. She grabbed the larger towel, threw it over and behind Scully, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  


"Oaah, w-w-war-r-r-r-m," Dana said contentedly as she shakily grabbed and pulled the warm towel around tighter.

  


Susanna grabbed one of the smaller towels, crouched down and said, "Foot."

  


Dana looked down - still shivering like mad - and extended a foot, which Susanna started to dry. Once she was done, she said, "Other foot." Dana put her right foot down and extended her left one. This time when she was ready drying Dana's foot, she said, "Down." Dana put her foot down and Lieutenant Palermo started drying Dana's left leg quickly. When she reached Dana's thighs shifted to the right leg and dried downward. After that came Dana's midriff.

  


"Turn around, if you please, Captain," Palermo asked after she was done with Dana's breasts. Dana complied and Palermo started at her ass, before drying Dana's back, after which she once again asked Dana to turn around, and finished drying Dana in under two minutes by drying Dana's head.

  


Susanna put the towel back from the console which held Dana's new clothes, grabbed the panties and handed them to Dana, who took them with her left hand. It was a little awkward, to put on her panties with only her left hand, shivering as she was from the cold, and she needed her right hand to keep the towel on.

  


"Mmmm, oooooohh, n-n-nic-c-ce," Dana moaned in pleasure as she felt the warm cloth fit snugly around her crotch. Susanna's next gift was a bra. Dana took it and tried to figure out how to put it on with only one hand for a second, before dropping the towel and putting on the warm bra quickly.

  


"Sh-sh-shirt," Dana said. She recognized the red shirt that Palermo gave her immediately, but couldn't place it. It fit her perfectly, following Dana's curves perfectly, which was exactly the way Dana wanted it. That way the warm material would keep her warm all over.

  


She zipped up the zipper and said, "S-s-ock-ck-cks." When Palermo gave her the black socks that belonged to the uniform, Dana remembered immediately. *Starfleet uniform,* she thought. She put on the socks quickly, before demanding the pants, which fit her just as well as the shirt.

  


"Jack-ck-cket-t-t-t," Dana asked, although it was unnecessary. She quickly put on the warm, black with grey patched garment. Palermo held up her rank pips; all four of them. Dana grinned and started placing them on her collar, while saying, "S-s-so, M-m-m-ak-k-k-kai. W-w-whatt-t h-h-happen-n-ned t-t-o g-ggetting to t-t-he F-f-f-feder-r-ration as f-f-fast-t as-s-s p-poss-ss-ss-ssible?"

  


Makai, who hadn't been able to do anything but stand and watch from his position behind Dana, dead panned, "I staged a mutiny."

  


Dana laughed, which sounded strange as the shivers disrupted them. Dana took the commbadge from Palermo and placed it on the right side of her chest. "Th-th-thanks f-f-for the m-mmutin-n-ny," Dana said, looking over her shoulder and flashing a quick grin.

  


"No problem," Makai said, grinning back at her. His two antennae twitched in amusement. "It was easy. There was nobody left on the ship to oppose my orders after I beat up the Admiral."

  


"What?! You didn't . . ." Ventura started to say, but was interrupted Dana's laughter and chuckles from Palermo and the Doctor.

  


"The t-t-towel," Dana said. Palermo gave her the last towel and watched as Dana wrapped the towel around her head, leaving only the eyes visible. Dana pushed the warm towel against her cold cheeks with both her hands. She noticed the shivering was dissipating less and felt glad about it.

  


"Do you mind telling us why you came back from the dead?" Doctor Marcus asked, annoyed, as usual.

  


"No, b-b-but I'll tell ev-v-veryone at the same t-t-time," Dana said as she gave herself a once over. She liked what she saw: the uniform fit snugly, showing of her femininity a lot more than the old loose uniforms. The grey shoulder patches with the colored shirts underneath gave uniforms more of an air of distinction than the old ones as well. As always when she wore a Starfleet uniform, she felt sense of rightness and irony - just like the first time she wore the Uniform as nothing more than a cadet. The rightness was because of what Starfleet represented and being part of that great organization, she helped found. The irony came from the fact that she had once ridiculed the fans of Star Trek and with it what the Federation and Starfleet was all about. 'It would never be real,' she had said, 'It's impossible.' And sure the details weren't correct; the species they met in real life were completely different from the show, and a lot of the details were completely wrong - but then so had Jules Verne been wrong about the landing on the moon - but as with Jules Verne, the big picture, a paradise-like Earth and a vast cooperation of different species, was completely correct.

  


She still remembered the day she met the other Human ambassadors who were vying for this cooperation, and when she proposed the names. The astonished looks on a few of them when they said, 'You know Star Trek too?' She had been just as astonished; after World War III - which caused the loss of so many things - Star Trek seemed to have been lost. But, she had found there were still a few people who - probably by watching very old video-taped episodes - knew the show. And, she was prone to believe, some of the knowledge seemed to be ingrained in the Human genetic structure - in people's subconscious - because the ease with which people had rejected the old proposed names and embraced the new ones could only be explained that way.

  


"I've been thinking, that must've been really horrible, freezing like that," Commander Makai said looking at Dana, now in the proper uniform.

  


"T-that depends on how you look-k-k at it," Dana said, still shivering a bit. "If I had stayed in space for a long t-time, I much rather be frozen than not."

  


"Why?" Ventura asked.

  


"Because, if I wasn't, t-then every time I would get a jolt, I would-d wake up and s-suffocate to death all over again," Dana answered, remembering a particular insane Immortal.

  


~~X~~

  


Buenos Aires

2324

  


*Nick Knight?* Dana thought, as she read the name of the person who was requesting the communication. *Probably Nick Wolfe. But why does Nick Knight sound so familiar?* she asked herself as pushed the accept button, racking her brain for the name Nick Knight.

  


"Hey, Dana," Nick Wolfe's vision on the screen said.

  


"Hello, Nick," Dana answered him, noticing his location, San Francisco, from the caller ID information in part of the screen. "You know, Amanda asked about you a few months back. She wanted to know if I knew where you were. She was worried about you, said something about hearing that you were attacked several times quickly in a row."

  


"Yeah, I know, she's already been by . . . actually she's still here," Nick answered with an embarrassed tone to his voice.

  


Searching her brain had paid off; suddenly Dana remembered where she heard the name 'Nick Knight' before. "Wait a minute . . . Nick Knight, as in Forever Knight?!" Dana asked incredulously, she hadn't exactly been into fantasy and science fiction, but after turning Immortal you tend check out things which could hold some secret knowledge about immortality.

  


"Yeah," Nick answered even more embarrassed, and grinning a stupid grin. He pulled up his shoulders, showing there was nothing to be done about it now. "At the time I needed a name quick; didn't think it through too well. I regretted it, the moment I said it, but what's done is done. Almost cost me my head four times too."

  


"Aah, let me guess; all of them were thinking, 'Hey, it could be a coincidence, but let's make certain if there's someone attached to that name who's actually old enough to remember the television show,'" Dana said mockingly.

  


"Yes, I know it was stupid, but you should've heard Amanda - as if the world had exploded. 'I can't believe you're so stupid.' 'You're four hundred years old, you should know better.' Blah blah blah blah, yackedy smackedy. And then she walked out of my apartment in anger. I swear, I think I saw smoke coming out of her nose and ears; she didn't talk to me for a week," Nick said, thinking he had a sympathetic ear.

  


"Well, I'll give you some advice," Dana said overly cheerful, being the exact opposite of sympathetic, "you're next name should be very inconspicuous, and I've got just the name you should use. What do you think of 'Lucien Lacroix'?

  


"I can't believe I'm saying this, but this time I agree with Amanda," Dana added for good measure. "So, why did you call me? It isn't because you wanted to complain about Amanda, is it."

  


"Yes, I know I was stupid, the four near beheadings in one week gave me a pretty good clue, and no, I did not call just to complain about Amanda . . . I need your help," Nick said, a bit exasperated.

  


"With what?" Dana asked in a friendly tone.

  


"I'm a cop - yes, I know, it's not surprising - but I'm not any cop, I'm with Starfleet Interplanetary Police Force," Nick explained.

  


"Starpol, for short. Yes, I know . . . and?" Dana asked.

  


"Well, I've got this new case - a serial killer. In the last few weeks there have been twenty killings across the world, all of them on older people and ex-Starfleet personnel," Nick said gravely.

  


"So? I'm certain there have been serial killers before. What's so strange about this one that you need my help?" Dana asked, a little intrigued.

  


"This guy or girl has done it before. I checked other planets for the same MO, just on a hunch. The killings started two years ago. On Andorra he killed two - a married couple - both ex-Starfleet, both above seventy. On Starbase 71 he killed a Vulcan, this one still in Starfleet. On Vulcan itself, he killed a few more Vulcans, and this is just the beginning. In total he has already killed forty-two people, all of them over seventy, all of them in Starfleet, or they were once in Starfleet. The fact that he killed on different planets and even Starbases is strange enough; most serial killers remain on the same planet or base. That he targets people above seventy is even stranger. Until this day I have never heard of a serial killer who only kills older people. On top of that, they are all Starfleet or ex-Starfleet," Nick explained.

  


"And you're thinking this might not be such a random choosing of victims, but more dedicated precise acts of . . . vengeance, perhaps?" Dana asked Nick.

  


"Oh, yes. That would, however, require something that ties them together, so I did some checking. They were all serving on board the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, in 2268," Nick told Dana with a grim face.

  


"The plot thickens," Dana said.

  


"Indeed it does. So, now everybody on my team is looking for somebody who was on board the Enterprise during 2268, who has a long life span, and who has a good reason for revenge, or some other reason to kill people who were on board the Enterprise then," Nick said. Then, with grim tone, he continued, "I, however, checked another avenue. I didn't check the living, I checked the dead, specifically Human dead."

  


"Why do you think he is one of us?" Dana asked Nick.

  


"His MO. You see, he first tortures his victims for about half an hour, then he phasers them down, but not enough to kill 'em and then he cuts their heads off with a sharp object. After that, he dumps the body and the head somewhere away from the place where he killed them and away from each other. He most likely kills them in - for him - familiar surroundings. Metallurgical analysis on the small pieces of metal that were found in the neck wound suggests a seventeenth century rapier," Nick told Dana.

  


"Aah," Dana said.

  


"So I was thinking, what if this guy died on board the Enterprise, they put him in a casket, shot him into space before he revived and spent about fifty years in space, constantly reawakening and suffocating to death over and over again every time his casket got jolted, until one of us finally freed him from his ordeal? Think that is enough for an insane vengeance spree of death?" Nick asked still as grim as before.

  


"Oh, yes, more than enough," Dana answered. "So, how many names have you got who fit the criteria?"

  


"Fifteen," Nick answered.

  


"That's a lot. Have you removed the names of which the mothers had an easy birth?" Dana asked.

  


"No," Nick answered, as he pushed a few buttons, "why is that?"

  


"To build up our Quickening requires a lot of energy. Pre-Immortal children take that from their mother. My mother barely survived my birth. Before 1960, every mother giving birth to a pre-Immortal died during birth. That's part of the reason why all of us born before that time were foundlings," Dana answered him.

  


"Aah," Nick answered, then looked down as the computer chirped a response.

  


"How many are left?" Dana asked.

  


"Six," Nick was about to continue and specify all six, but Dana held up her hand for him to stop.

  


"Eliminate those who were not given some form of nutritional additive and did not complain about being drained all the time," Dana told Nick. And after a few seconds she asked, "How many?"

  


"Three are left," Nick stated.

  


"Name them," Dana demanded.

  


"Aki Irika, born in Zaire in 2237, security officer. Got shot during an away mission in April 2268 - why they gave security personnel bright red uniforms back then is beyond me. Natasha Hyrup, Danish, born 2245, died during an accidental release of poisonous gas in June 2268; her mother died during childbirth. And finally Peter Kalinsky, Polish, born in 2229, died in September 2268 repairing a turbo lift - he didn't secure himself well enough."

  


"My money's on the girl. Download their files to me; I'll see what I can find. You keep checking on your end. And Nick . . . if this does turn out to be an Immortal, no cops; we'll do this the old fashioned way," Dana answered.

  


"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way," Nick confirmed grimly.

  


*****

  


It was two days later and Dana had finally found a solid lead. Now, it was only a matter of finding him, and if she was correct that is exactly what she had done. A face appeared on the screen and Dana asked, "Dieter Krill?"

  


The man was taken aback lightly, he hadn't expected the caller to know his real name. He quickly surmised that she was an Immortal, but he had to keep up the facade just in case. "No, the name's Carlton Michaels. What's got your head so worked up about?"

  


Dana notice the reference immediately, "Your teacher, Makis, he got killed two years back, correct? By his own student?"

  


"Yeah. Why do you want to know?" Dieter asked wearily, afraid he might be talking to a headhunter who hunted down and killed 'evil' people and thinking he was the one who killed Makos.

  


"How was that student found?" Dana asked, getting impatient.

  


"He floated in a casket in space," Dieter answered, intrigue starting to lace his voice.

  


"Was it a woman?" Dana asked.

  


"No," Dieter answered.

  


*I guess I was wrong,* Dana thought. She moved the PADD in front of the screen and asked, "Was it this man, Aki Irika?"

  


"No," Dieter answered again, getting restless.

  


"This one then, Peter Kalinsky?" Dana asked, after she pushed the button to go forward to the next file.

  


"Yeah, that's the bastard. Do you know where he is? Because I want his head!" Dieter exclaimed with fire in his eyes.

  


"Not precisely, but he's most likely in San Francisco, Earth," Dana answered him, thinking, *Got ya.*

  


"Are you after his head? Because I want this bastard myself!" Dieter exclaimed with conviction.

  


"In a way. We think poor Peter went a little insane during his stay in his casket, that he went on a killing spree, trying to kill everybody who was with him on the Enterprise when he died. If we're correct, he's already killed forty-two people. There were over four hundred on board the Enterprise," Dana answered Dieter.

  


"You think you can leave him to me?" Dieter asked grimly, but hopeful.

  


"That depends on whether you're here before his next murder. Which leads me to the next question: has your teacher ever taught you something about hunting and preparing for a kill, something specific, something Kalinsky might be using?" Dana asked him.

  


"Yes, he taught us to observe the prey for at least two weeks and up to four weeks; learn his skills and his habits. That way it's easier to defeat him," Krill answered.

  


"It's been three weeks since his last murder, he could strike at any moment," Dana said, sullen.

  


"I'm taking the next flight to Earth. I'll call you when I get there, and you call me if it's over before that," Krill stated.

  


"Agreed. I'll see you then," Dana answered him quickly, then made the call to Nick.

  


"Nick Knight," Nick said.

  


"Nick, it's me. It's Peter Kalinsky. He killed his teacher, an old one by the name of Makis, a little over two years back," Dana rushed out the words, for they had no time to waste. "Makis taught his students to observe their prey for two to four weeks."

  


"It's been three," Nick said, a little stricken, knowing he didn't need to elaborate. He regained his composure and urgency quickly as he said, "I'll check his picture to other records, find out what name or names he's using, find out where he's staying, and any property he might have."

  


"I'll do the same," Dana answered.

  


*****

  


The old man walked along the road. He knew San Francisco well; he'd spent a long time of his life there. The cane clicked on the pavement in a steady rhythm. Even though he was over ninety years old, he could still easily walk towards Starfleet Academy, where he was scheduled to appear at a medical symposium. He didn't need a pickup or a beam in. He snorted, remembering the young smarty-pants who had suggested them only twenty-five minutes ago.

The walk would be a good workout.

  


*Aah, Emony,* he thought as a stray memory entered his brain, grinning widely. *That must've been almost eighty years ago, I was still in my teens.*

  


Suddenly two hands grabbed him, one of them clamped over his mouth, and he was pulled in an ally.

  


"Hello there, Bones," a vaguely familiar voice said close to his ear in a low eerie tone, before it laughed insanely. Then Leonard McCoy felt a needle enter his neck and everything went black.

  


*****

  


"Dana, we've got a problem," Nick's face on the screen said, hurriedly.

  


"What is it?" Dana asked, dreading Nick's answer.

  


"Admiral McCoy was slated to hold an speech at the symposium over at the Academy half an hour ago; he didn't show. They checked the route he said he would take - he's missing," Nick explained.

  


"Shit," Dana sighed. "I've found three properties . . ."

  


"Me too. Two warehouses in the city and an old estate outside the city," Nick interrupted her. "I propose I check out the estate; you take the warehouse on Eight street. If he isn't there, we'll move on to the warehouse on twenty-sixth."

  


"Agreed," Dana answered.

  


*****

  


"Hey, Bones. Come on, Bones. Wake up, Bones," Peter Kalinsky said cheerily as he slapped McCoy's face lightly.

  


McCoy slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the insane blonde-haired face of his tormentor. He looked further around and noticed that he was in some sort of barn. It was made of wood and there were plenty of creaks to let in sunlight. It had an eerie atmosphere of age on it. Here and there older and newer machines, most only half intact, were scattered about.

  


"Aah, Bones wakes up," Peter said, grinning a wide, evil grin. "Come on, Bones. Stand up and let me look at you. It's been so long."

  


"Don't call me Bones," McCoy snapped as he steadily, but slowly, stood up.

  


"Aah, yes. Kirk is the only one who called you that. Right, Bones? Well, too bad, Bones, I think the name suits you, because I can see all your bones through that wrinkled skin of yours, Bones. And those bones keep rattling around in that bag of water, Bones," Peter said, laughing out loud.

  


"I know you . . ." McCoy said, racking his brain for the answer. In shock he said as he remembered, "You're Peter Kalinsky . . . but you're dead. You dropped down that elevator shaft."

  


"Give the man a cigar!" Peter yelled upward in the air, waving his arms wildly in triumph. "It seems, Bones, that your brain has tackled the teeth of time better than your body." Another laugh, this time a more heartily one. Peter suddenly seemed very serious, almost as if someone else was talking, "It's strange, though, that even though hardly anyone still smokes, and cigars aren't made anymore, we still use that saying to indicate the right answer." Then Peter suddenly switched back to his less stable self, slapped his right hand on McCoy's far shoulder, pulled him closer himself and said, "Ain't that right, old friend?"

  


"You're an Immortal," McCoy said, putting the clues together, remembering a particular fellow on a desolated planet and a conversation with a certain Ambassador at Khitomer.

  


"And he wins the grand prize. Tell him, Gaston!" Peter shouted in the air. "Behind curtain number one is a one-way ticket to Hell, where it's always nice and warm, and behind curtain number two there's a mystery prize. What will it be? What will it be? Chose number two and find out!"

  


"I ain't choosing," McCoy said.

  


"Oh, come now, Bones . . ." Peter's voice suddenly seemed to hold more danger than the entire Romulan fleet combined as he pulled a sword from somewhere McCoy couldn't see and placed its point on the doctor's throat. "I could always torture you until you choose."

  


McCoy decided to humor him and said, "Well, since number one is certain death, I'll choose curtain two."

  


The sword lowered as Peter grinned, "Ooooh! Bad choice, Bones, for behind curtain number two lies a torturous one-way ticket to Hell!" He laughed again.

  


"You're completely insane, you need help," McCoy said, while he thought, *Come on, Uhura, Checkov. Now would be a good time!*

  


"Perhaps I am, Bones, but you know what? I DON'T CARE!!!" Peter yelled again, his insanity seemed to grow by the second. "Because, you see, I had such fantastic friends - of which you are one, Bones!" Peter grinned as he slapped his hand around Bones shoulder once again, "- that they didn't even bother to check if I was really dead. And then they put me in a casket and launched me into space where I spent fifty years waking up and suffocating to death over and over again." Peter expression changed, reflective suddenly, "Must've happened about several hundred times. I didn't like that. Nope, I didn't like it at all." Peter laughed again before continuing, "So do you know what I decided to do, Bones? I decided to kill you all. You'll be number forty-three, and then another three hundred and twenty-one and you'll all be dead." Peter's demeanor changed to a serious one as he said, "I was really disappointed when I found out Kirk was already dead. You see, Bones, I was really looking forward to cutting his head off. Oh, well, I'll still have you and Checkov and Uhura and Spock. All of them went on to making such fantastic careers . . . WHILE I LIED DYING IN A CASKET FLOATING THROUGH THE DEPTHS OF SPACE!!!!!!" Peter laughed after his sudden outburst.

  


"Well," Peter said, with a said voice and sad look on his face. "This is where our ways must part, Bones. Here's where I . . ." Peter's demeanor suddenly changed, he started whipping head about as if in search of something.

  


"Will die," a new voice finished for him. McCoy could see him behind Peter. He had come in through one of the side doors and was wearing a blue Starpol uniform and he was carrying a sword.

  


*Stupid youngster,* McCoy thought, *take cover you damn fool.* Peter suddenly whipped around and fired a phaser at the man; it hit dead center. The man, however, did not vaporize as McCoy expected. He did nothing more than stagger a step back.

  


"Well, well, well," Peter said grinning as he put his phaser back in his short coat. "It seems the old goat was right when he claimed we absorb phaser blasts."

  


"The name's Nick Wolfe and I challenge you to a duel," Nick said, pointing his sword at Peter.

  


"Don't try to run away, Bones. If you do and I have to go and catch you, things will be a lot worse," Peter whispered dangerously to McCoy before taking Nick's challenge. "Peter Kalinsky." And then the steel of their swords clashed together.

  


McCoy looked transfixed as he shuffled gently backward, not wanting to get accidentally in the way of one of the swords. The dance of the men was incredible to him - two men in a sword fight in the twenty-fourth century, and they were good, really good. He wasn't even remotely close to being expert, but the speed and grace with which the men fought was not lost on him.

  


"You're going down, Wolf-boy," McCoy heard Peter say as he swung his sword in a vicious swing at the police officer's neck.

  


The man - *What did he say his name was? Nick Wolfe,* McCoy thought. - easily blocked the blow and returned an insult. "That's what they all call me - right before I cut their heads off."

  


McCoy didn't bother trying to escape; he knew he would never be able outrun or hide from Kalinsky, and he didn't want to make the situation worse for himself than it already was. Besides, he knew, if one cop comes along, the rest are bound to follow. He just hoped they were here in time.

  


McCoy kept watching the fight and suddenly, while both men were in a heated exchange of blows, they both stiffened. "Hello, Leonard," he suddenly heard the familiar voice beside him. He jumped as he was startled. He looked at Dana and had no idea where she had come from.

  


"You aren't going to break the rules, now, are you?" he heard Peter's voice it was loud, probably to make sure Miranda heard him.

  


"Oh, don't worry," answered Nick's less loud voice. "We won't break the rules, but if you manage to win, you'll have to face her before you can get to McCoy." Then the fighting started again.

  


"So, Miranda, or is it Josie? How have you been?" McCoy asked with a bitter tone in his voice.

  


"It's Monica, these days. And I've been fine, and you?" Dana asked him.

  


"One of your friends kidnapped me and tried to kill me," he answered darkly.

  


"He's not my friend. I haven't even talked to him yet. Until a few days ago I hadn't even seen him, and until just now, I only saw him in pictures. You're not in a good mood, are you?" Dana asked grinning at him.

  


"Getting kidnapped by an insane man who can't die does that to you," he answered blandly.

  


"I suppose it does," Dana said, and watched as Kalinsky made a mistake and got Nick's sword through his chest as a reward. Nick disarmed Peter and kicked his sword aside. Peter was on his knees, looked up and saw Nick's sword high above his head. For a moment their eyes locked, speaking volumes within that moment.

  


"What is he doing?" McCoy asked as he saw Nick raising his sword.

  


"What do you think he's doing?" Dana asked him.

  


"He can't kill him," McCoy said, shocked.

  


"Sure, he can," Dana answered.

  


"But . . ." McCoy began.

  


"But what, Leonard?" Dana asked him. "You've got a guy there who's Immortal. Standard medication isn't going to help him. The only ones I could think of that might've been able to help him snap out of it, are his friends of old, and he's been killing them. That leaves incarceration, and you know as well as I do that you can't lock him up for all eternity. Sooner or later someone's going notice that he isn't aging and that he isn't an El Aurian or some other extremely long lived species either, meaning sooner or later they'll come after the rest of us."

  


McCoy nodded silently and sadly. He noticed some sort of silent communication between Nick and Peter, then he heard Nick Wolfe say an incantation. McCoy didn't understand the exact meaning, but it was said with a form of respect and reverence. It was, "There can be only one!" And then Nick's sword crashed down upon Peter Kalinsky's neck and his had fell to the ground.

  


"What does 'There can be only one' mean?" McCoy asked intrigued.

  


Dana didn't turn her head away from Nick as she answered, "Legend has it, that we must fight until there is only one of us left alive, and that the last one of us will receive untold power as a reward. Many of us live by that mantra, seeking out other Immortals in killing them for their power. And even though people like me and Nick don't believe the legends, the phrase has become sort of a mantra, a string of sacred words. It describes us perfectly and so even we use it often."

  


"What do you mean killing them for their power?" McCoy said, even as he felt wind moving inside the barn, which should have been impossible.

  


"Let's take a few steps back and behold - the Quickening," Dana said with a little awe in her voice as she stepped back. McCoy followed.

  


McCoy watched as a blinding lightning strike struck Nick and it seemed to be coming from Peter's decapitated body. More lightning strikes flickered between the two bodies, one alive, the other not. Now lightning strikes also struck at the metal machinery surrounding Nick and some of them exploded. The lightening blasts lasted a few more seconds and then everything turned quiet again.

  


Dana pulled out a handkerchief and used it to pick up Peter's sword. Then made sure the blade got covered with his blood. After Nick had put his own sword back out of sight, she said to him, "Here, hold the sword for a few seconds. He was about to kill you and in the hectic of the moment you managed to disarm him and behead him with his own sword." Dana looked at McCoy and asked him a silent question, 'Will you collaborate the story?' McCoy nodded understanding Dana's gaze. He couldn't do much more than nod because he still wasn't quite over what he had seen.

  


"Well, my presence would be difficult to explain to the rest of the police force that is about to arrive, so I'll be taking my leave - I still have a message to dispatch," Dana explained. "If you have any questions, Admiral, ask Mr. Knight here."

  


"Knight? I thought his . . . Oh, of course," McCoy muttered.

  


~~X~~


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

  


Dana walked onto the little bridge of the Runabout. The cold was almost gone, though she still shivered occasionally and kept the towel wrapped. She looked at the screen - showing the whirling mass of the badlands - a moment, before she activated the intercom and said, "I guess everybody would like to know how I managed to survive. First I'd like to ask you to keep what I'm going to say a secret. I'm entrusting you with my life."

  


A few signs and murmurs of consent came from the bridge and the intercom. "All right, then, I was born on February 23, 1964," Dana said, and waited until the gasps of shock and surprise passed. "For thirty-eight years I seemed mortal in every way. I aged, I healed only slowly and as far as I knew, I would die, but then I did just that - I died. I just didn't stay dead. From that moment on I haven't aged a day, my wounds healed extraordinarily fast, and as long as my head stays attached to my body, I can not die."

  


"Well, I guess now I know why you're in command of this mission," Admiral Ventura said.

  


"And why I carry a sword, which I would like returned. And replicate a sheath while you're at it, one that allows me to wear the sword on my back," Dana said, looking at the Admiral.

  


"I'll be back in a minute," he answered and left to the back of the small ship.

  


"That leaves only one thing people," she said, making sure the intercom was still on. "Do we go home, or attempt to finish the mission? Anyone in favor of finishing the mission raise your voice." The intercom blurred with loud voices, each voice said something along the line of 'Yeah, let's do it.'

  


She turned off the intercom, then put her right arm on Hans' shoulder and said, "Well, Ensign, I'm going to need the quickest route from here back to Cardassian space, but I don't want to end up anywhere close to the remnants of that Wormhole. It'll be crawling with ships there by now, trying to find out what happened."

  


"And, I take it, preferably somewhere close to one of their relay stations, since that would be the only way to spread the virus, right?" Hans answered, tapping in the course he had already calculated on before hand, than look up at her, giving her a smile.

  


She smiled back at him and said, "That's good, Ensign. You're starting to know me, and the better we know each other, the more we can do without saying anything. And the more we can do without saying anything, the more we can do within the same amount of time.

  


"Commander, I think you still have something that belongs to me," Dana continued, after giving Ensign Papen a gentle tap on the shoulder, which prompted him to throw the Runabout into acceleration and into the course change.

  


Commander Makai fuddled in his uniform jacket and presented the isolinear rod with the viruses to her. At that time Admiral chose to reenter the bridge of the Runabout and presented Dana with her sheathed sword. She took it and removed it from the sheath for a moment, hefting it, feeling the power of it as it seemingly merged with her hand. She looked at the gleaming blade for a few seconds, before re-sheathing it. She pulled the band, attached to the sheath, over her head and around her torso, fitting the sheath holding her katana on her back. The movement caused the towel around her head to untangle a little and Dana decided to remove the towel. She gave it to Makai and said, "Could you bring it back?"

  


"Sure," he said, grabbing the towel.

  


"So," Hans asked, feeling a bit bold, "if you're four hundred years old, did you know James T. Kirk?"

  


"And then some, Ensign, and then some. I know a few people who are the greatest enigmas, myths, legends and mysteries in Human history . . . but yes, I did know Captain James Tiberius Kirk."

  


~~X~~

  


2293

Khitomer

  


Kirk exchanged a few pleasantries with some of the ambassadors. Mostly they thanked for his in the nick of time interference and saving the conference. Kirk hated it; it was just his job. It wasn't as if he was doing something no one else could have done; he had just been in the right place on the right time.

  


He looked around and saw something, or rather someone: a woman. She seemed familiar, and the way she moved intrigued him. It was enigmatic, mysterious. She walked away, moving outside his field of vision. The last thing he saw was a mysterious smile creeping up her face. Something clicked in his head. *It can't be,* he thought, *she's got to be a daughter, or a niece or something.* He wormed himself through the crowd, eventually reaching the young woman that had so intrigued him. He grabbed her arm to make her turn around. He looked stunned. Up close she was a dead ringer for the Admiral. Granted, her hair was far more immaculately done and they were now black, instead of the rich brown of old, but the face was exactly the same, still as eternal as back then. It could still be from a twenty-something woman or a woman in her forties, and the eyes were still filled with youth, yet old beyond recognition. These things he hadn't noticed forty years ago - he had simply been too young - but he saw them now.

  


"You are . . ." he started in shock.

  


" . . .still mirroring things back at you, Mr. Kirk? Always," Dana interrupted him, before he could say something that wasn't meant for every ear. "Don't remember my name, huh. It's Josie Taelman, remember? Ambassador, these days," Dana grinned at him. Dana leaned toward him and said in a tone just over a whisper, "Shall we take a walk through a more private place? A corridor perhaps, Mr. Kirk?"

  


Kirk nodded and followed her through a pair of doors and asked, "You really are Anna Drury?"

  


"Oh, yes. The Evil Mirror will never die," Dana added a soft, mocking evil laugh to it. "Don't look so surprised, Mr. Kirk. You don't actually think that a teacher doesn't know what names he or she is called, do you?"

  


"So, you are like Flint - immortal?" Kirk asked.

  


"Yes, I am, and there are many more like me," Dana answered Kirk.

  


"Do you know that if you stay away from Earth your Immortality ceases to function?" Kirk asked a bit concerned.

  


Dana laughed heartily and said, "I see you still haven't mastered my lesson completely, Captain."

  


"Call me, Jim," Kirk said pensively, and added, "I don't get it."

  


"Our Immortality is not dependent on Earth at all, Jim," Dana answered.

  


"But tricorder readings said . . ." Kirk started, but was interrupted.

  


"Yes, and sensors from your ship didn't show him at all, yet he was there," Dana told him. "And the fooling of the tricorders is something you should have been able to notice, Kirk. How can those tricorders see signs of aging if any signs of aging are immediately regenerated, as your doctor and Flint's confirmation said his body would? And if the tricorder was fooled in that respect, it could just as easily be fooled to show that his Immortality failed." Kirk looked a bit dumb. "On top of that, there are always the visible signs of aging."

  


"What do you mean?" Kirk asked a bit blown away.

  


"Think, Jim. Think aging . . . and think growth," Dana suggested.

  


"The nose and feet keep growing," Kirk answered with revelation.

  


"Which means that if he was 6200 years old and he would show signs of aging, he would have had a giant nose and giant feet," Dana said coolly. "Did he?"

  


"No," Kirk answered.

  


"You see, we don't age, we just don't do. If you'd cut us open and examined our organs, except for their size, they'd seem as if they're from a baby. I once thought we did age. You see, my reproductive cycle is about sixty years - as opposed to twenty-eight days with a mortal woman - so I thought we just aged a factor slower, but that isn't true. We just don't age," Dana explained.

  


"He wasn't 6200 years old either. He was about 3900, give or take a few decades, perhaps a century," Dana explained him.

  


"Really?" Kirk asked him.

  


"Yes, and again you could have known. When did he say he was born again?" Dana asked Kirk.

  


Kirk thought for a moment, trying to remember the exact number. "3834 BC," he finally said.

  


"Yes, and what year count did they use back then, hmm?" Dana asked Kirk.

  


"I don't know," Kirk answered seriously.

  


"I don't know either. What I can tell you is, that it was vastly different from ours, if they had a year count at all . . ." Dana was about to continue when Kirk interrupted.

  


"And it changed multiple times over the years . . . it would be virtually impossible to know the exact year in which he was born," Kirk said, shaking his head. "When someone gives too many, too accurate details, they're usually lying."

  


"Besides, no one of us cares that much about his age, especially those who are older than two and a half thousand. Back then they didn't even celebrate your birthday. When we talk about our age, we don't care about exact years. I'm about 330, give or take a few years. If I have to be exact . . ." Dana paused a moment, calculating, "I'm 329. Those who are above a thousand don't even talk about the years. They'll say, 'I'm about twelve hundred, give or take a few decades.'"

  


"So what more did he lie about?" Kirk asked.

  


"He wasn't Methuselah. That wasn't even a man, but an era. And if it was a man, he lived over twelve thousand years ago. He wasn't Alexander the Great. Alexander had a father and a mother as you know, and Flint's father and mother died more than a thousand years before Alexander's father and mother were even born. And he wasn't Leonardo DaVinci," Dana told Kirk.

  


"But Spock said that the paintings are authentic," Kirk protested.

  


"Is Spock an art expert? Can he see the difference between DaVinci's teacher and DaVinci's student as he later surpassed his teacher? It requires a highly trained eye to see the difference, and even then there are probably a few paintings out there considered to be DaVinci's when in fact they're his," Dana explained patiently. "By the way," she added, as she offered him her right hand, "we haven't been properly introduced. My name is Dana Scully."

  


Kirk took her hand, shook it, and said, "It seems we've completed a round; there's the conference room again."

  


"I would appreciate it if this stays a secret," Dana stated solemnly.

  


"My lips are sealed," Kirk said.

  


The doors opened and McCoy stepped through, quickly closing the doors behind him. He turned around and looked at them. Then grumbled, "Jim! Where the hell have you been? Those vultures were eating me alive in there. Not only did I get those who wanted to talk to me, but I got everybody asking me where James T. Kirk went . . . and who is this striking young lady?"

  


"Oh, you should know me, Leonard," Dana said grinning, then regretting it instantly. *Stupid,* she berated herself.

  


McCoy looked closely, than he gasped out, shocked, "Miranda Stiller."

  


Dana lost the regret immediately. She would have given everything for the look on his face right then and she told Kirk, a little conspiratorially, "I was one of his father's colleagues and later his father's friend. Leonard used to call me 'Auntie Miranda'." Kirk grinned, McCoy blushed, and Dana continued, gripping McCoy's nose and wiggled his nose while she talked, "I can still remember bouncing the cute little boy on my knee."

  


"Well, I'm still cute," McCoy said, after she had removed her hand. Kirk was still chuckling.

  


"That you are," Dana conceded.

  


"You've got to explain me this," McCoy said as he moved forward and held out his elbow.

  


She turned his way and hooked her arm behind his and said to Kirk, "Here we go again!"

  


"Yep," McCoy said, and starting waving Kirk towards the conference room. "And you ain't coming with us, Jim. Now it's your turn to smother in hell!"

  


*****

  


Three Months Later

The Enterprise

Enroute To Q'onos

  


"Ok, so why were we given this assignment? I thought this ship would be decommissioned; The Enterprise-B is just about to get launched," Kirk asked Dana.

  


"Because the Enterprise has a reputation, and so have you, Captain, as a great and honorable warrior. This ship and its crew were also instrumental in founding our peace - sending this ship is a sign that says, we'll stand by our agreement, all the way. And no Klingon that might not like the peace between the Klingons and us would dare attack a great and honorable warrior," Dana answered him without looking away from the screen. "It's a good thing you disobeyed that order and explored that star system, then took a final two-month long tour of the Federation, Jim, or this ship might already have been dismantled."

  


"Wouldn't a great and honorable warrior and the fact that this ship and crew helped forge the peace make this ship an even greater prize to destroy?" Kirk asked.

  


"I see you still need to learn a lot about Klingons, Kirk. Were we enemies you would be a prize, but we're allies now. And attacking an great and honorable warrior who's an ally would be considered dishonorable. If they'd actually do that, there's a big chance Klingons who haven't entirely made up their minds yet will turn to the side of peace," Dana answered, now looking down toward Kirk, who sat in his command chair.

  


"That's another reason why you and Ambassador Dax made sure the Enterprise was sent, correct?" Kirk asked her.

  


"Of course. Always use every opportunity to get as much good out of a bad situation," Dana answered, smiling crookedly at him.

  


"So what's this situation Ambassador Dax and we are going to have solve exactly? They haven't given me much information," Kirk asked a bit absentmindedly,

  


"Don't know exactly. The only thing I know is they specifically asked for Dax, and we can't leave the Klingons without an Ambassador in this early stage of our precarious peace," Dana answered him.

  


"Sair," Checkov said, "we're approaching the Klingon bordear."

  


"Helm, slow us down to impulse," Kirk ordered.

  


"Aye sir," the ensign at helm answered.

  


"I'm picking upp three Klingon Birds of Prey, sair," Checkov announced.

  


"Hail them, Uhura," Kirk ordered. Even though his first instinct told him to go to red alert, raise shields and fire weapons, he managed to suppress them, and he had to admit that the hand that fell on the back of his chair had steadied him. How could such a young woman have such an overwhelming presence? Kirk mused. An annoying self-correcting voice in his head told him, *That's because she only looks young. Remember, she's almost five and a half times older than you.*

  


"Kirk!" the Klingon captain yelled in a jovial tone, "I was looking forward to meeting you, although I had hoped it would be in battle. But alas, it's like your people say, 'You can't have everything.'"

  


"Some of our people also say, 'Shoot first, ask questions later,'" Kirk answered, reminding the Klingon that he could make this a battle easily.

  


The Klingon laughed a loudly and heartily laugh and said, "Just follow us, Kirk. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your soft, Human body." Once the verbal sparring was over the Klingon nodded at Dana and said, "Ambassador, it's good to see you again."

  


"Captain Klarok," Dana said, nodded her head to him giving him a feral grin, showing him his teeth. "It is a pleasure seeing you again. Our brief meeting on Khitomer was definitely too short."

  


"That it was," Klarok said, returning the feral grin. Then he made a gesture to cut the transmission.

  


"Follow the Klingons, Ensign," Kirk ordered. After the 'Aye, sir' he added to no one in particular, "I think that was the first time I saw a Klingon laugh, it was highly disconcerting."

  


Dana chuckled and told him, "You'll probably see a lot more Klingons laugh, Jim. They laugh a lot, actually."

  


"Then why have I never seen one laugh before?" Kirk asked skeptically.

  


"That's because almost all of the Klingons you've faced we're those surgically altered and weakened Klingons. They who had to look more Human in order to shock us when we finally met the normal, real Klingons in battle. Didn't work very well, did it?" Dana answered Kirk.

  


"But aren't these Klingons genetically enhanced," Kirk countered.

  


"You refer to your encounter with those few that had been stranded on that planet. That was the cover story of the Klingon empire. Those few thought the deception was dishonorable and that there should simply be an all out war, so they tried to start one. The thing is, most Klingons thought the same way, including those who were altered. That's why you didn't see them laugh," Dana explained.

  


"Feels strange flying into Klingon territory and not having to sneak around . . . And what was that all about? Have I got it right that you were flirting with him?" Kirk asked a little appalled.

  


"That would fall under classified," Dana said, grinning at him. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go to my quarters."

  


Dana stepped into the turbo-lift and ordered the computer, "Deck 4."

  


The ride was uneventful. She stepped out of the elevator, took a few steps and felt the tell-tale buzz of a nearby Immortal. She slowed her step and saw Duncan MacLeod - short cut hair - rounding a corner in a Starfleet uniform.

  


"Lieutenant Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Dana said, a little surprised. "When I saw your name on the crew manifest I thought it was some other Duncan MacLeod. I never thought I'd see you in a Starfleet uniform. What are you doing here?"

  


"Well, I had to try out one of these sooner or later," MacLeod said as he fell in step with her. "And this was the last chance for me, a living legend, to be on a legendary ship with a legendary crew and a living legend as a captain, and add to that you, another living legend, are here as well. I thought it was appropriate."

  


"I can still remember you raving on about that Starfleet and how the Federation would never work," Dana grinned at him.

  


"Well . . . I, uh . . . I guess I was wrong," Duncan conceded.

  


"Oh, historians of the galaxy, you should be here now!" Dana exclaimed, mocking him. "One of the greatest events in history just occurred; Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod admitted he was wrong about something!" She laughed.

  


"OK, I guess I deserved that," he admitted to her.

  


"So, you're going on a nice trip to a diplomatic crisis, huh?" Dana asked.

  


"Not exactly," MacLeod answered. "The standard crew of the ship was put back on it. The only way I could be on the Enterprise was to become one of your . . . attaches."

  


Dana looked him over. There was no sign of him being part of the operations or science crew, only a security sign. She blinked her eyes, then started to laugh hard and managed to choke out, "You are one of my bodyguards!?"

  


"Head bodyguard. Yes, I am," MacLeod admitted.

  


"Oh, this is rich!" Dana exclaimed as she started laughing again. "These three weeks are getting better and better all the time," Dana laughed out loud, a mischievous twinkle forming in her eyes. "Lieutenant Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod has to guard my body, obeying my orders, me, little old Josie Taelman, one time student of same Duncan MacLeod." She grinned at him, rubbing her hands together evilly, "Oooh, this is going to be so much fun!"

  


"Why do I have the feeling that I'm not going like the next three weeks?" Duncan asked her as they slowed down and stopped in front of her quarters.

  


"Because it will be my pleasure to make them your personal living hell," Dana grinned at him, a big goofy, but mischievous smile. She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Well, Lieutenant MacLeod, your first order is to guard me, by guarding the entrance to my quarters."

  


"But that's ridiculous . . ." Duncan started, but he was interrupted by Dana.

  


"Are you disobeying my order, Lieutenant?" Dana asked him, unable to remove the grin from her face.

  


"Uh . . . no," Duncan answered.

  


"What?!" Dana asked, still grinning, in a tone of disapproval.

  


"No, ma'am," Duncan answered.

  


"That's good, I was starting to think I needed to get you expelled from Starfleet, Lieutenant," she said, barely keeping the stern tone in her voice. She laughed again.

  


"You little . . ." Duncan started, an angry and indignant look on his face.

  


"Uh, uh, uh, uh," Dana interrupted him, wiggling her right index finger mockingly at him. "You don't want to insult a Federation Ambassador, who for the next three weeks is going to be your superior, now do you?"

  


Duncan just fumed.

  


"I didn't think so. I'll see you in a few hours, Mac," Dana laughed again as she past through the doors to her quarters.

  


Duncan stood next to the door, thinking, *That little bitch!* For the next hour or so, nobody even dared to go near him while he wore that dangerous, angry look on his face.

  


*****

  


Q'onos

A Secluded Room

The Next Day

  


Metal clanged on metal as it echoed through the room. They had found it nicely secluded after about half an hour of searching. Pillars marked an inner square with an outer gangway around it. The room was mostly dark brown, with grey and black mixed through it. It was a rather nice room, perfect for sparring. Several entrances and exits lead in and out the room. MacLeod parried one of Dana's blows easily and let her move past him, a well-aimed hard swat with the flat of his sword to her ass followed. *Let's see if she's still so eager to make my life miserable after today,* he thought to himself. Dana was facing him already and he barely blocked her blow in time.

  


This went on for a while more, before she made a mistake. He kicked her, again in the ass, then kicked her feet from under her, which landed her square on her ass. "Auw!" she exclaimed.

  


MacLeod looked at his watch and said, as he watched her getting back up and rubbing her arse, "Two hours without a serious mistake, Josie. You're getting good. I need to start looking out for my head."

  


"And I still need to look out for my cute, aching, little tush," she said, pouting out the last few words in an overly cute voice, while rubbing that very same tush to alleviate the pain.

  


"It's definitely cute, although I would've use a different word to describe it," MacLeod joked.

  


"Oh, are we going on the sexist tour now?" Dana asked offended.

  


"As far as sexy, female asses are concerned, absolutely," MacLeod said grinning.

  


"You just wait. By the end of these three weeks, you'll be singing a different tune," Dana answered him, a little angry. Suddenly Dana caught something on one of her senses. She whipped her head around and looked at one of the entrances; the Klingon that had stood there watching disappeared quickly.

  


"What?" Mac asked.

  


"Somebody was watching," she answered.

  


MacLeod shrugged, and said, "A watcher perhaps."

  


"I don't think so, not unless they've already recruited Klingons," Dana told him.

  


"So, what's the big deal? A Klingon watched us spar. They like fights, you know. Perhaps he was just watching for the love of the art of battle," MacLeod tried to calm her.

  


"Then why did he disappear the moment I spotted him? I've been in contact with Klingons longer than you, Mac, and something tells me he's up to no good," Dana answered MacLeod with an uneasy tone to her voice.

  


"Did you get a good look at him?" MacLeod asked her.

  


"Not really. Come on, we've got to get ready for the welcome party anyway," Dana told MacLeod.

  


"That's still more than one and half hours away," MacLeod protested.

  


"Exactly," she answered.

  


"Women," he muttered.

  


*****

  


The party was as she expected it would be: loud, with lots of food - some of it still alive - even more Bloodwine, along with some less hardy stuff for the none Klingons. She hated speeches - not giving them, but listening to them. That was why she always kept hers short. Of course her mandatory advisor - when he noticed she hadn't written anything down - had written her a full twenty page speech and had made it clear that he didn't like her not preparing anything and that she better make sure she said everything. *He really doesn't understand Klingons,* she had thought at the time. Six speeches were planned: three Klingon - who each gave lengthy speeches - for Klingons that is; for Humans they were rather short - and three Federation people. The first two had given really lengthy speeches which seemed to impress the Federation personal, but only annoyed the Klingons. She was last and the third of the Federation. She made a show of looking thoughtful, as she walked to the stand, nodding to herself as she scanned through the pages on her PADD, pushing the 'next page' button obviously. As the Klingons in the crowd noticed how many times she did that, sighs and groans could be heard coming from that.

  


"Yeah, mmhmm, yeah, aha, mmm," she said in the microphone of the stand, "Well, my advisor prepared this rather lengthy speech for me, but since most of it has been said, I think I can sum the rest of it up . . ." And as she threw the PADD over her shoulder she added, " . . .in about two words: let's party!"

  


Shouts and yells of approval came from the Klingons, most of them grabbing cups and filling them with Bloodwine. Some stuck their D'Ktah knives in a piece of meat and started eating from it. One Klingon yelled, "Hail to the Ambassador." Most of the Klingons followed by raising their metal cups and yelling, "Hail!!" The next thing the Klingons did was grab some of the Federation personnel - still not over the abrupt ending of the speech - shove Bloodwine filled cups in their hands and yell to them, "Drink! Didn't you hear your Ambassador?"

  


"That was a rather smart move, Ambassador," Chancellor Azebur of the Klingon High Council admonished to Dana. "I think you made yourself quite popular with us."

  


"Most of them - all of them - seemed to get bored. Besides I don't like long speeches," Dana answered, and saw Duncan standing rather close. "Lieutenant MacLeod, what are you still doing here, hovering around me like a mother hen? Get down there, mingle, pick up a nice, hot Klingon babe for the night. That would be good for relations between us and the Klingons. I'm sure there are a few Klingon women, who would be delighted to teach you Klingon mating rituals," she ordered, flashing him a quick grin.

  


"Oh . . . I'm certain there are," Azebur answered as she let her intense, predatory gaze, take in every inch of his body. She gave a short growl of approval, before finishing with a feral grin on her face, "Oh, yes, there definitely will be a few."

  


MacLeod, not used to such open treatment as a piece of meat, muttered something unintelligible and stepped down from the stage and moved into the crowd.

  


"Perhaps I should have told him," Dana mused out loud.

  


"Told him what?" Azebur asked, curious.

  


"Well, he has this chivalrous notion about never hitting a woman," Dana grinned at the Chancellor, who laughed loudly.

  


"He better learn soon, or he won't keep a single Klingon female in his bed . . . and that would be bad for relations - at least for him, that is," Azebur answered, chuckling some more.

  


"I'm going to have to talk to you about the evacuation of Q'onos," Dana said to Azebur a little seriously.

  


"Is something wrong with it?" Azebur a bit suspicious.

  


"Yes. It leaves Q'onos a barren wasteland for about 500,000 years," Dana answered her.

  


"It will be too if we stay, and then we'll be dead as well. We can repair the ozone layer, we can clean up the radiation, but there is nothing we, or you, can do about the sub-space radiation which would still keep destroying the ozone layer and bringing new normal radiation," Azebur told solemnly.

  


"Not necessarily. I've been looking through the records, and a year ago there was a request for a grand for a research project on clean-up of sub-space radiation. The request was denied, since, just like now, the destruction of Praxis and its results to your atmosphere are still not public knowledge. And the necessity of cleaning up sub-space radiation is not that much of a priority; there were other, more useful projects," Dana explained.

  


"Really? This is not a joke, or is it?" Chancellor Azebur said dangerously.

  


"No, it is not a joke, I've even talked to the people about it. They estimated, that with the right funding and equipment, they could be finished in about twenty to twenty-five years. Understand, they also said that it could take over fifty years if they encounter big enough unforseen problems," Dana explained.

  


"Aah, and you're suggesting I fund these people, so they might finish their technological break-trough in time to clean up our atmosphere?" Azebur asked, intrigued.

  


"No, more than that. I'm saying you get them here and have them work with your scientists. The bigger the diversity, the larger the chance for success," Dana explained.

  


"Are you free tomorrow morning at eight o'clock? So we can discuss your proposal?" Azebur asked.

  


"I'm free," Dana answered. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll join the party."

  


"Me too," Azebur answered.

  


Dana grabbed a metal cup, filled it with Bloodwine and gulped a few mouthfuls down as she walked into the party. *When in Rome . . .* she thought. A handful of Gagh followed next; she let them slither down her throat.

  


"You actually eat that stuff?" an ensign next to her asked disgusted.

  


"Sure, it's rather tasty," Dana answered grinning at her, then threw one worm at her. She caught it reflexively and stared at it. "Taste it. You'll like it."

  


"No way," she said disgusted.

  


"If your Ambassador says you should taste it," a female Klingon nearby said, as she turned around and faced the ensign. She grinned evilly, then grabbed the ensigns arm with the Gagh worm in it and proceeded to shove it towards the ensigns mouth. She pushed the worm in her mouth and used her other hand on the ensign's throat to force her to swallow. "You should taste it," the Klingon finished as she pushed the ensign through one of the tables with food, the dish on it was covered with something that looked like chicken wings. Dana quickly grabbed one before the whole table, including the ensign, toppled over. As the Klingons laughed out loud, Dana tasted the piece of the bird and it definitely wasn't chicken, but it tasted good enough, so she ripped another piece of meat of it with her teeth.

  


The Ensign, Thomas, stood up, fuming with anger, and walked towards the still laughing Klingon woman and yelled, "You stinking, fucking, slut!"

  


"Hey!" one of the Klingon males said, as she stepped forward, "You are talking about my sister there!"

  


"What are you gonna do about it? Kill me?" Sabine Thomas answered angrily.

  


"The thought had crossed my mind," the Klingon growled menacingly, stepping close to her, making himself seem extra big. He pored his eyes over Sabine's one meter seventy four centimeter frame, giving extra attention to her - bared by the short skirt - legs, her crotch, her breasts and finally her pony-tailed light blonde hair. Dana grinned at the scene, she wanted to know how the Ensign would handle it before she stepped in. To her surprise Sabine grabbed a metal bowl from the table behind her, threw out whatever was in it and smashed the Klingon in the head with it. He staggered back and dropped to the floor instantly. Sabine, still holding the bowl, stood ready to fight, unconsciously baring her teeth. The rest of the group of Klingons to which the man belonged looked at her for a moment, apparently a little bit surprised, then grinned at her and started to form a half-circle around her, Dana - who was starting to notice she was in the wrong place - and the Klingon male.

  


"Are you going to help me?" Ensign Thomas asked, getting a little scared. One Klingon was one thing, but to be surrounded by a whole bunch of them did not seem good to her.

  


"Kinky," Dana whispered to her, as they watched the Klingon come back to her feet lazily, "but I'm not in the mood for a threesome. But I hadn't seen it in you, not even tasting a worm and now trying out sex with him - as the first Human with a Klingon probably."

  


"Wh-wh-what?" Sabine asked, perplexed. Here were a whole group of Klingons getting ready to slaughter her and she thought about sex. "What are you talking about?" she squeaked out in a tiny voice.

  


"Oh, boy, you don't know do you? I'll give you some advice; next time, read up on the other culture first. If you wanted a fight, you should have hit him in the stomach and after that in the head. As it is . . . you've just initiated a Klingon mating ritual," Dana grinned at the ensign, laughing inside at the irony of it, and seeing how the Klingon tasted his own blood from his finger and growling in approval without looking at them.

  


Ensign Thomas' eyes grew large in shock. "You mean h-he thinks I w-want . . .?"

  


"To fuck him?" Dana supplied the end of the question, whispering. "Yeah. And I can't help you without risking an incident; I am the Ambassador, after all. Basically; you've made your bed and now you have to lie in it."

"A feisty one! I like that!" the Klingon shouted, the Klingons in the circle laughed.

"But I'll give you some advice. Don't apologize, don't try to explain, go with the flow, experiment, be the first Human with a Klingon. You just might like it," Dana whispered her quickly and moved away from Ensign Thomas, who had shocked expression on her face.

Dana brushed passed the heated Klingon, bumping gently in him and rapidly whispering, "Be soft. You don't want to break her in half before you can get her into your bed, now do you?"

The Klingon's first instinct was throw the pesky woman aside, like a fly, but the hushed warning got him to his senses. His first instinct had been to smash his fist into the face of the sexy, little thing that had so obviously showed interest in him. After the warning he realized that that would cause the woman to require serious medical attention, at the very least. He decided to do it differently, but with no less show of dominance though. He was of the diplomatic core, so he had been ordered to learn about Human culture. That gave him his idea.

"He he, hi . . ." Sabine started nervously, having no idea how to get herself out of the mess she had gotten herself into. Then the Klingon's hand shot out too sudden and fast for her to react to and she felt it grab her in the small of her back. She was pulled into him hard and there was no way to resist as he turned them around, reversing position. The Klingon looked at Dana with a look that asked, 'Soft enough?'

Dana answered by mouthing 'Kiss her, you fool.' He grinned and grabbed Sabine roughly by her ponytail. "What are . . .?" Sabine tried, before she felt her head being pulled forward. Her eyes widened further as she saw his head coming forward fast. *He's going to give me a head but and I'll die,* she thought in shock. She was even more shocked when she felt him roughly push his tongue in her mouth and proceeded to kiss her just as roughly. About fifteen seconds later he pulled back and as he did so bit hard on her lower lip, drawing blood. He licked some up and grinned at her, then growled softly, "Your blood tastes good. Now it's your turn, bite my cheek."

The whole situation was just too unreal. First she was ready to battle a Klingon, then suddenly it turns out he wanted to have sex with her, and that she unwittingly had seduced him. And he had grabbed her so strong, rough, unrelenting, yet soft and somehow sensual. The kiss had been no less so. watching him savoring her blood was one of the erotic things she had ever seen and Dana's voice kept echoing through her mind, 'You just might like it.' So, she buried her hands in his long hair, holding his head that way and kissed his right cheek, then bit it, hard, until she felt some of his blood seeping on her tongue. It tasted rather bitter-sweet and sensual.

"I'm Goran, son of Igon," he growled softly in her ear, then bit her ear lobe.

She gasped and whispered back, "Sabine Thomas. I've got to be honest with you, I didn't even know that what I did was a mating ritual."

Goran looked in her eyes for a moment, then laughed out loud, "My bed."

As he laughingly picked her up and threw her over her shoulder, she shrieked, "Hey!"

"And she didn't even know she was seducing me! I'm off to bed, and she's coming with me!" Goran yelled in Klingon after which he burst out laughing and walked out the exit. The half-circle of Klingons laughed as hard as him and dissolved back into a group of drinking and laughing Klingons.

"Carry on, Ensign!" Dana shouted after her, then turned around, walked further into the crowd as she threw the now clean bone to the floor, and smiled, thinking, *Well, that worked out just fine. Thank god!*

MacLeod and a Commander wormed themselves through the crowd hastily. She stopped them and asked, "Where are you two going in such hurry?"

"Finding out what's going on down there," the Commander stated.

"Oh, that was just a Klingon mating ritual," Dana answered him.

MacLeod looked up suddenly, and tried to push past Dana while he said, "That Klingon is kidnapping a Federation officer."

"No, he's not," Dana explained, as she held him back. "They did the ritual."

"Are you saying, that - I think it was ensign Thomas - and the Klingon are . . . are . . .?" Commander Harris asked, unable to say it, let alone think it.

"Yeah. He's taking her all right, just not against her will and straight to, and then in his bed," Dana explained, grinning widely. "I must admit, I'm rather impressed of how she handled the situation."

"Ambassador!" the Klingon woman who Ensign Thomas had insulted called as she worked her way to Dana. "That was a rather impressive way the ensign seduced my brother. Do you teach all your females how to do that, or is it just her?"

"Actually, she didn't even know what she was initiating," Dana told the Klingon woman.

The Klingon grinned and said, "I don't believe that; she was too good. It doesn't matter anyway; they'll both be having a very pleasant night."

"I have no doubt they will," Dana answered her.

"Speaking of pleasant nights," the Klingon grinned ferally, as she noticed MacLeod, "if my brother can take a Federation, then why not me?" She grabbed his arm, squeezed to check if he had firm muscles and bared her teeth. "I think I like you," she growled as she pushed MacLeod hard into a pillar that was right behind him. "My name is Marda, daughter of Igon."

After a needed breath MacLeod answered, "Duncan MacLeod."

"Duncan," Marda tested the name on her lips, rode really close up to him, resting her breasts with an open cleavage against his chest. "I like that name," she growled.

"Eh, would you step away, please," MacLeod asked nervously.

"Not really," she growled, biting him in the cheek, tasting his blood. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Ma'am, I don't think he wants to do what you want," Harris answered, a little nervous.

"Really?" she answered him sarcastically as she grabbed his crotch with her left hand, "His body tells me otherwise."

"Really," Dana explained the woman. MacLeod seemed a bit relieved at Dana's interruption. "He's got this moral code, that tells him never to hit a woman."

MacLeod's face was one of shock, while Marda told him, as she pushed herself even tighter against his body, "Well, well, Duncan, I think you should start hitting women, preferably with me, because we Klingon women like to be hit." When MacLeod just looked at her in shock, she pulled him along to the exit.

"Do me a favor? While you ravish him, hurt him a lot," Dana asked Marda.

"It'll be my pleasure," Marda growled back to the now laughing Dana Scully.

"I'll get you for this, Josie!" Duncan exclaimed from behind Marda.

"No, I think you'll thank me instead!" Dana shouted after him.

"Whoa, that's two. How many more of the Klingons do you think will have sex with us?" Harris exclaimed.

"At least one more," Dana answered, grinning at his dumbfounded face.

"Oh, brother," Harris exclaimed as he decided to leave the party and go to bed.

Dana looked around, working herself a way through the party until she finally spotted him, Then moved towards him.

"Well, Klarok! I think we've got some things to discuss, don't you!?" Dana interrupted his banter with a group of mixed Federation officers and Klingons.

"Oh, really!?" Klarok said, clearly displeased with her interruption.

"Yes, really. Now follow me!" she ordered.

"Give me one good reason why I should!" he said angry, in almost a growl.

"Because if you don't, I'll pull you along by your feet, and you'll be responsible for a diplomatic incident!" Dana fumed at him, her eyes glittering in excitement, as did Klarok's.

"Eh . . . Ambassador," one of the Federation officers, a lieutenant, tried to sus the situation.

"Shut up!" she and Klarok snapped at him. Then he stepped up to her and growled, "If you think you can order me around, I'll . . ."

Dana interrupted him forcefully, "You what! You gonna kill me?!" He bared his teeth, but held his tongue. "I didn't think so!" Dana added and started walking towards a door. Klarok followed her, angry.

They left the building and she headed for what she assumed his house. "Perhaps you should lead me to your house. It's not like I know this city after being here less than a day."

He took point. "And what do you want to do there?!" he asked in a displeased tone.

"What do you think, you damn fool?!" Dana snapped at him. He growled, then they were silent.

They were like that for about half an hour, before they reached his compound. He slammed the door three time. "It's me!" he said in an angry tone.

The gate opened, and the guard said, "Q'aplah!"

Klarok just walked by him, still fuming. Dana followed close behind. They reached the door leading in to the house and he slammed his hand on it once, saying in Klingon, "Open the damn door."

"So how am I doing?" she asked quickly a little smile on her face.

"I don't think I have to answer that question," he growled, softly. She glanced over him and noticed a bulge in the crotch of his pants.

"Oh!" she said, angry, with a little smile she had difficulty hiding as she felt her juices flowing from her vagina. "And you actually think you're going to get to use that, boy?"

"That was the plan, yes!" he shouted at her.

"Well, you better apologize first buster," Dana said, menacingly at him.

"Apologize for what?!"

"Is it just you, or is it whole of the Klingon species that's this dense?!" she asked him sarcastically.

"What are you talking about?!" he asked indignantly, adding a growl.

"If you think, that after the way you greeted me on the Enterprise, I'm even giving you as much as a kiss, think again, pall," Dana grimly told him.

"Oh, you Human women probably expect me to drop to my knees in front of that view screen, with a dozen red roses and pledge my undying love?!" he asked sarcastically.

"That would be good start, YES!!!" she screamed at him. At that moment the door was opened by a servant.

"Inside! Now!" Klarok growled at her.

"The hell I am!" Dana screamed at him and turned around to leave. His hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"You're not going anywhere!" he growled loudly. She turned around and let her right fist fly straight into his chin. He reeled back from the blow, but recoiled quickly by smashing her with the back of his hand. Dana felt something crack in her jaw.

"Bitch!" he shouted, then grabbed her by the waist as she reeled backward and he started to rush her into the house. She spread her arms and grabbed the door frame and kept him from going through the door with her; at the same time both her feet kicked in his stomach. He staggered back for an instant as he doubled over, time Dana used to smash his face into her knee. With roar he smashed upward with a double handed uppercut. Dana stumbled backward into the house. He ran after her and kicked her hard in the stomach sending her flying to the floor.

"Lock the door and open the bedroom! I'm gonna teach this bitch a lesson," he ordered the female servant who instantly complied with his orders. He walked up to her, towering over her lying form. She kicked out and hit him in the knee.

"Aah!" he screamed in pain, but he didn't let himself be deterred and he kicked her so hard in the stomach that she flew a meter through the air before landing again. She clutched her stomach, that had really hurt, but it did nothing diminish her excitement. She got up and felt Klarok barrel into her. She grabbed him and held her ground, that suddenly let herself fall to the floor, kicked her right foot out and let him sail over her. He landed with a loud growl and quickly got up, then grabbed her hair as she tried to walk away and used it to smash her face into a wall. Her elbow found his midriff and as he doubled over and let go of her hair. She smashed a double-handed axe blow into his face.

"Slut! That's it," he growled, shot up, and grabbed her throat with his right hand, pulling her about twenty centimeters from the floor than threw her through the bedroom door. He walked through and smashed the door behind him. "Lock the door!" he shouted in Klingon. He walked forward into the room, after he heard the lock being turned.

"There," he said, "now you're mine, sweet little raven-haired beauty!"

"Don't count on it, P'tagh!" Dana yelled as she grabbed something from the table, an expensive looking vase with some indigenous Klingon flowers in them, and threw it at him. It hit him square in the chest; he was forced to take a step back as the vase fell to the floor and shattered. "You're not getting me, you son of a bitch!" she yelled as she picked up everything that she could find and threw it at him. He just grinned, and proceeded to take off his clothes as he dodged a few projectiles and promised her a lot of taming and hot sex, while complimenting her looks. When he was finished undressing, she grabbed a wooden chair and threw that to. He caught it and smashed it to pieces against the wall.

*Uh oh! Now I'm in trouble,* she grinned inwardly, *I'm out of things to throw.*

"Nothing more to throw," he growled softly and menacingly as he advanced on her.

She screamed and threw a punch at him with her left hand. He caught it, but not the follow up of her right hand. A little of his crimson blood was released from his mouth and landed somewhere on the floor. Her right foot kicked him in the chest; she felt the satisfying crunch of a cracking rib. Then she smashed him on the right elbow with her free left hand and heard it crack. With a roar he put his right hand, despite his cracked elbow, on her throat and his left at her waist and picked her up. In the same roar he ran her into the wall above the bed rest, than put her down on it.

"Aah!" she exclaimed as she felt a few of her ribs crack satisfyingly, even as her head smashed against the wall hard. *God, this so hot!* she thought, but not because she was being hurt, but because they both were. Every hit was so carefully placed, she noticed; none came anywhere close to permanently harming her, there were only bruises and broken bones and somehow he seemed to be able to ensure her with every hit, that he would never do anything to truly harm her or anything truly against her will, almost as if after each hit he gently stroked each sore spot. She now knew why Klingons found this so arousing, and why some Human females had fantasies about being raped.

With his left hand, Klarok started to rip the clothes from her body one by one. He grinned approvingly at her bare chest, whispering menacingly, "So you were going to keep these from me, heh?"

"I still am," she countered. He laughed and ripped away her pants.

"Now, you're mine," he growled.

"Don't count on it," she hissed, closing her legs and putting her feet against him, trying to push him away, her arms reached for his shoulders and did the same. He pushed against her legs and arms, forcing them backwards and forcing them to bend.

He grinned evilly at her, hissing, "You shouldn't have been flaunting it around, girl. Now it's mine." He grabbed her knees with both hands and started pulling them apart. In her current position she didn't have the leverage to stop him and so her legs parted slowly. It felt so erotic, not being able to stop; it give her a feeling of weakness, combined with the fact that she wanted this weakness, that she wanted him to take her, it gave her wicked feelings of arousal, laced with a little guilt.

"No!" she wailed as her legs were finally pulled apart, or rather she let them be pulled apart, and he moved in between them.


	9. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8_

  


"Mmm!" she moaned as she snuggled closer to him, slowly waking up. The hard board that was the bottom of his bed woke her up faster. There was nothing soft, except perhaps parts of Klarok's body, lying in between her and the board. She slowly sat up straight and craned her neck, a few satisfying pops rang in her ears as the bones there snapped back in place. The same happened with the bones in her back, as she stretched it. So too popped the bones in her arms as she stretched them high above her head, yawning as she did so.

  


She looked at his body, covered in bruises and welts. Five times they had done it last night, and she was thoroughly satisfied. She knew, she must've looked like him at times during that ordeal. Of course by now she didn't have a scratch left. She yawned again as she laid back down, placing her head on his chest, looking at his face. His eyes slowly opened, and he grinned at her.

  


"Last night was very nice," she told him, smiling.

  


"That it was . . . wait a minute, where are your bruises? You're not going to tell me I didn't give you so much as bruise, are you?" Klarok asked, astonished.

  


Dana smiled broadly at him, shook her head and said, "Check under the bed." He did and removed a first aid kit. A skin regenerator and a bone knitter were part of its contents. "I beamed it over here and told one of your servants to place it there. I thought I might need it." After he gave her a look, she explained, "Hey, you Klingons might enjoy sleeping with broken bones, but us Humans do not."

  


He laughed hard. "So, you were planning this all night, huh?"

  


"Yep," she answered. "What time is it anyway?"

  


Klarok asked the question in Klingon; the computer answered in the same manner. "It's 07:33," he told Dana.

  


"Yes, I know," she said. Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up in bed, "Oh shit! I've an appointment with the Chancellor at eight!"

  


*****

  


Chancellor's Office

08:12

  


"You're late," Azebur said as she saw a rather disheveled looking Josie Taelman enter her office.

  


"Yes, I know," consciously making sure, she didn't apologize. "Next time I'll make sure he sets the computer to wake us on time."

  


Azebur grinned and said, "Sit down. So what do you think of Klingon sex?"

  


"It's exhausting, but quite pleasurable," Dana answered as she took a seat in the hard chair.

  


"I see you've had your bruises removed," Azebur added, disappointed.

  


"I know Klingons like to show their bruises off, and every Klingon will now what they represent, but the Humans in the embassy wouldn't understand. They would try to get him thrown in jail, be concerned for my welfare, constantly ask if I'm all right, and who the bastard is that did it to me. I thought it better to avoid that," Dana explained to Azebur.

  


"I see. Your loss," Azebur said, looking a little dreamy for a moment.

  


"I know," answered Dana, the way she answered implying a whole range of emotions and meanings, far deeper and far more encompassing, than just the knowledge of not being able to show the bruises being her loss.

  


"Tell me about this science project," Azebur said, deciding to ignore what she saw in Dana's body language, knowing instinctively that she wouldn't talk about it.

  


Dana gave a PADD to her with the information on the group of scientists who were working on it. The next hour, they spent discussing everything related to it.

  


*****

  


Federation Embassy

09:47

  


Dana laughed as MacLeod walked into her office. He looked awful. His hair was a complete mess, and his uniform was only barely clinging to his body, several improvised patch jobs showed that it had to have been a lot worse. He grinned at her as he plowed himself into a seat.

  


"She was very . . . physical," he grinned at her.

  


"Oh, you don't say," Dana said, barely keeping her laughter in.

  


"And you were right; thank you. That was one of the more satisfying, if not tiring, nights of my life," he said, unable to keep his goofy grin down.

  


"The look of a man after sex," Dana mused looking at him. "A dumber look on a man just doesn't exist."

  


"Ha, ha," he said dryly, still grinning.

  


"So . . . are you two going to see each other again, or was this a one night stand?" Dana asked, as she grinned a mischievous smile at him.

  


"I don't know. Why?" Duncan asked her.

  


"Well, perhaps you could show her the pleasures of softer, Human sex," Dana explained, still grinning at him, her eyes twinkled in delight. "Peace between warring factions always became easier with cross-weddings, you know."

  


"You expect me to marry her?" Duncan dead-panned.

  


"Not if you don't love her of course. But even then, if there are a few Klingons who fondly talk about their sexual adventures with people from the Federation . . . you never know, it might be what keeps this alliance intact," Dana elaborated, the twinkle in her eye getting brighter. "Which reminds me," she said as she got up. She continued as she walked to the exit of her office, "I have to go check if Ensign Thomas is still in one piece."

  


MacLeod stood up and said, "Yeah, I'll go change uniforms."

  


"Oh, Lieutenant," Dana said, as she opened the door, "once you're done with that, run fifty laps around the compound. I don't ever want to see you before me again like that."

  


"But . . ." MacLeod started.

  


"Fifty laps!" Dana snapped and turned left.

  


"If I get my hands on her, I'll wring her little neck till she's dead," Duncan muttered under his breath, as he turned right. As an after thought he added, "Several times."

  


*****

  


"Ensign!" Dana called as Sabine managed to get herself past the gate without having to hit any of the overly concerned guards. Her uniform was rumpled and bruises littered her face. She was holding one arm tightly to her body.

  


"Eh . . . I'm sorry I'm late, Ambassador," Sabine said, a little embarrassed.

  


"Don't worry about it," Dana said, gesturing toward a bench that was far enough away from everybody in order to have some privacy. They both sat down and Dana asked, "So did he go easy on you?"

  


"Well, that depends on your definition of easy. I'm still alive, and if he would have hit me as hard as he would hit Klingon females, I might not be," Sabine answered and looked in Dana's face. "Your look is a bit too knowing . . . You've already been to the doctor!" Sabine exclaimed, and her jaw dropped.

  


"Well, not this doctor, a Klingon one over at his house," Dana answered, grinning a little. "So, tell me, did you enjoy it?"

  


"Let's just say, I never thought getting beat up could be this erotic," Sabine answered with a goofy grin.

  


*It seems a women's look after sex isn't much better . . . Uh, oh, that means I too . . . Ouch!* Dana thought to herself. "Are you planning on seeing him again?" she asked Sabine instead.

  


"Well . . . I don't know; my body won't be able to handle this kind of abuse too many times in a row," Sabine answered, pondering.

  


"You don't have to do it Klingon style every time. Teach him our way. That's what we should be doing anyway; learn each other's culture, learn each other's quirks and strangeness and learn how to deal with them without killing each other first - sexual practices are part of that as well," Dana explained to her.

  


"I guess so. I'll have to think about it," she answered, a bit uncertain.

  


"You do that, but I think you could use a doctor now, right?" Dana asked as she stood up.

  


Sabine stood to and answered, "Yeah."

  


Dana gave her a pat on the back and the ensign winced. "Sorry," Dana said. Sabine gave her an embarrassed grin.

  


*****

  


Three days later

Q'onos City Spaceport

  


Four black and one white Human walked down the ramp, looking around until they stopped in front of Dana, who stood waiting for them below.

  


"Ambassador Taelman, I presume," the older black man of the quintet said, sticking out his hand.

  


Dana shook it and said, "And you must be Professor Dr. Nkrumah."

  


She exchanged greetings with the other four younger people, also all doctors and Nkrumah's proteges. Then they all started to walk and the professor asked, "So, can you tell me why the Klingons are funding our research?"

  


"Everybody knows of the new alliance between our two races, but not why it came into being; over a year ago, Praxis, a Klingon moon and the housing of their main energy-production facility exploded. Only about a fifth of the moon is left. This explosion irradiated Q'onos with sub-space and normal radiation, seriously affecting their ozone layer. In fifty years it will be gone, and for the next few million years, until nature has rebuilt it, Q'onos will be a virtual barren wasteland. If it had been only radiation, the Klingons would have easily cleaned up the mess, but alas, the Klingons lacked the economic infra-structure to relocate everything. We don't. And then I read about your little project. If you succeed Q'onos can stay a living planet and the home world of the Klingons," Dana explained as they walked towards the exit of the spaceport.

  


"I knew it. I told you I was right," one of the younger ones, a female, Isha Iskander, answered.

  


"All right!" another, Kiran Kaloki, said. "Not only do we get to complete our research, but we get to save a planet from destruction as well." He clasped his hands and rubbed them together, "I'm ready to be a hero. I hear the Klingons build great statues and write songs about their heroes."

  


"Only when they're warriors," Dana told him, grinning.

  


"Damn!" he exclaimed.

  


"Never skin the bear before you shoot it, Kiran," the white man, Onno Witter, told his friend, grinning as he placed his arm around his shoulders.

  


"Shut up!" Kiran answered with a scowl on his face.

  


*****

  


One week later

Q'onos City, Science center

22:25

  


The announcement the Human and Klingon scientists had made to the Klingon High Council had been completely unexpected. Everybody had expected it to take a great deal longer, based on the projections of the Human scientists of ten years before practical testing on the first prototypes could get started. Now they had announced that they were ready to build the prototype of the device that should clean up sub-space radiation very quickly. Testing would probably be finished in about five years and in the six to seven following that, Q'onos would be cleaned up.

  


The party in the science center hadn't started all that much later. Klingons and Humans alike were drinking alcohol, scarfing down food, and telling each other tall tales, legends and myths.

  


"It was fantastic," Kiran told the group of Humans and Klingons that stood around him. "It was like we had a thousand piece puzzle, but only 985 pieces, of which two we didn't know their place. Then this Klingon scientist, what was his name again, K-k-kot . . ."

  


"Kotorb'e," Onno supplied.

  


"Yeah, that's it, Kotorb'e," Kiran answered, before continuing his story. "Anyway, he tells us about this theory they've come up with, way too complex to explain here, but this theory is not complete, on many things it's wrong, and then we notice - that if we remove parts of it - it fits perfectly in our theory, and bang! We find two new pieces, which in turn allows us to find the other thirteen, and we know where the two wrong puzzle pieces fit, and where two more belong. Leaves us only with thirteen more puzzle pieces to place which is basically building and testing a prototype. It was truly fantastic, our sciences were not inferior or superior, but two perfectly interlocking mechanisms linking together. It was magnificent!" Kiran gulped down another mouthful of bloodwine.

  


Dana listened with mild interest to the rest of his story. She looked up at the presence she felt behind her, expecting it to be Klarok. Instead it was that annoying bastard, drunken Klingon that had been following her around, constantly trying to flirt with her and trying to get her to notice him.

  


"Don't you want a real man," he whispered.

  


That was it, now she was mad. She turned around and walked a few steps forward which he mimicked by taking the same few steps backward. Her hand snaked out, grabbed his neck and pulled his face down towards her. "Listen, boy. I'm not even remotely interested in you. This is the first and final time I'm telling you; I already have a boyfriend, a Klingon boyfriend. Got that, you piece of shit?" Dana told him in no uncertain terms, making sure not to show anything that he could interpret as her wanting him.

  


"Sure," he said, grinning a feral smile.

  


"Good," she said, letting go of him, after which she walked to Klarok. "Let's go. My place. I'm irritated, and I need to relax."

  


"I still need to make an errand. I'll meet you there, OK?" he asked her gruffly.

  


"Sure," she answered.

  


*****

  


It was a nice night. She was walking back to the embassy, and she was already feeling much more relaxed. She breathed in the strange, alien scent of Q'onos. It's plant and animal life gave off a scent that was quite invigorating. It was sweeter that Earth, yet it had an undercurrent of a musky nature.

  


She was getting irritated again, it was those damn foot steps behind her. She tried to ignore them, but they wouldn't leave. They only seemed to get louder. "What!?" she suddenly screamed as she quickly turned around. It was that irritating drunk again. "What is it now?! Didn't you understand what I told you?! Are you some kind of dimwit?!"

  


"I don't care," the drunk growled, still sober enough not to hiccup through his speech. "I want you, you're sexy, you're hot. If you'd only know what I've been thinking about you."

  


"I've got a pretty good idea," she answered, disgusted. He grabbed her, trying to bite her cheek. A kick to the stomach and a double-handed uppercut sent him to the floor.

  


"You filthy slut!" he growled as he stood back up. "You're going to love me by the time I'm through with you!"

  


"Oh! You're going to rape me, huh? Well, go ahead and try!" she shouted. As he came forward again, she pulled her sword from underneath her coat and cut his right arm.

  


"You little bitch!" he yelled. He pulled his bat'leth from his back and attacked. An attack which was easily blocked by Dana.

  


The fight was short; a drunken Klingon versus a half-drunken Immortal. The Klingon didn't stand a chance. He was disarmed easily, and a second later his head lay severed from his body. Dana easily cleaned her sword with the cleaning cloth she always had with her, then started walking away. *Damn bastard!* she thought as she kicked his head hard and sent it flying across the street.

  


Aah, she was already getting relaxed again.

  


*****

  


"Finally," Dana said, as she walked up to Klarok, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him deeply, then pulled away. "Let's make a little change, shall we?"

  


"Change?" he asked.

  


"Yes, today no Klingon beat 'em up sex, but nice and slow Terran sex," she grinned at him, pulling him along by his hand.

  


"No way," he growled, "I'm really in the mood."

  


"No way on the no way," Dana said, as she tried to push him down on the soft bed. "Sit," she said when he didn't budge.

  


"Uh uh," he answered her grinning, then grabbed her by the waste and pulled her up, thinking about slamming her into a wall. Her foot kicked out rapidly, hitting him in his chest hard, and he went down. "See, you want it too," Klarok grinned at her.

  


"That was not a sex kick," she answered him, "I've let myself be beat up just to get your rocks off and to learn about your culture. Now it's your turn."

  


"And you love it," he accused.

  


"That's not the point. The point is that I could have hated it as well," Dana answered, relaxed.

  


"I know what I like and want, and I like and want you," he answered her, shooting a fist to her.

  


She avoided it rather easy and playfully, and said, slowly getting irritated again, "I want to relax, so we will have soft sex, and that's it."

  


He growled and his next fist she countered, by grabbing him by the wrist and flinging him over her shoulder. He got up and said, "See you like it, you want it."

  


Her answer left no doubt in his mind that she was telling the truth and did not want to have Klingon sex with him - her answer was a powerful kick straight into his erection. He couldn't control the tears coming from his eyes as he dropped to his knees and clutched his genitals tenderly, hoping against hope that that would alleviate the pain. He had to force himself to take breaths that became pathetic gasps for air.

  


Dana grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the bedroom. She looked over the railing of the balcony and saw a nice drop of over two meters, down to the main meeting hall, but decided against it.

  


She pulled him over to the stairs. "What are you doing?" he asked, still clutching his painful balls.

  


"What does it look like I'm doing?" she answered him with menace and threw him down the stairs.

  


"Ooh! Aah! Hmpf! Ooof! Argh!" he exclaimed as he rolled down the stairs.

  


"Guards!"

  


"Ma'am?" asked two guards who appeared instantly.

  


"Get this Klingon bastard off the compound, and don't let him back in!" she ordered, after which she turned around and walked back into her bedroom.

  


"Sorry, pal . . ." one of the guards said as he pulled Klarok up under his right arm.

  


" . . .crash and burn," the other guard finished without interruption, picking up Klarok under his left arm at the same time. Then they proceeded to escort him out the gate.

  


*****

  


Federation Embassy

The next day, 08:00

  


Dana yawned as she sat down in the seat at the head of the long table. The rest of the table was lined with Federation personnel. Dana's bodyguards were part of them, as well as the people that worked closest with her.

  


"Good morning," she said.

  


"Good morning," they answered.

  


"Anything interesting happening with the Klingons, today?" Dana asked as she started to smear butter on her bagel, followed by strawberry jam.

  


"They've got this unsolved decapitation. Get this, they found the guy's head almost twenty meters away from the body," one of her liaisons answered.

  


Her eyes jerked op toward him. After chewing and swallowing her first bite, she asked, "What's the big deal about that? I'm certain there have been duels with a decapitation before, right?"

  


"Oh, sure, but this guy is the head of a Klingon House (no pun intended), a rather young leader whit no heir. And now this afternoon at two o'clock our time they'll have a hearing in front of the High Council in order to determine what to do with the House. I've heard there's a contender who has petitioned that the titles and the land be added to his," the liaison told everybody at the table.

  


"It would be rather interesting to observe such a proceeding. Too bad they won't let outsiders in the Council's Hall," Dana's advisor mused. Dana pondered something in her head, stuffing the last of her bun in her mouth, and proceeding to get the next one.

  


"Do you know what he looked like?" Dana asked the liaison.

  


"Yeah, I even got a picture," the liaison answered and showed her the picture on his PADD. It was the drunk Klingon bastard she had killed last night.

  


"It would be interesting. MacLeod, Duran and I will be attending this hearing," she said across the table. They all looked at her, astonished.

  


*****

  


Klingon High Council's Hall.

14:16

  


Azebur made a gesture to halt. The person in the middle of the circle, that was painted on the floor in front of the throne stopped talking.

  


"Ambassador, I think you are aware of our policy that no outsider is allowed inside these chambers!" Azebur called to Dana, the threat in her voice evident.

  


Dana wrestled past the guards that restrained her. Free she said forcibly, "That policy is going to have to change!"

  


"And just who do you think you are, to determine that!" Azebur exclaimed as she stepped down from the throne and walked down the steps in anger.

  


"The witness who knows who killed Kuruan!" Dana bellowed, taking a few steps forward.

  


Azebur looked at her across the hall, then swiftly turned around - the chancellor's cloak whirled around as she did so - and ascended the steps to the throne again. She looked past every face of the Klingons comprising the Klingon High Council, which comprised a half-circle that started behind her throne. Each head grimly nodded, showing they didn't like it, but that they had no choice.

  


Azebur whipped herself back around and ordered, "Step forward!" One Klingon, somebody who watched the procedure, started protesting. Azebur turned her head towards him. Swiftly, a guard placed a d'k tagh dagger at his throat. The Klingon quickly backed up.

  


*Damn!* Dana thought, as she walked toward the middle of the circle. *If I had known it would take this long just to get here, I would've left earlier.*

  


"So," Azebur said, looking at the gathering. To her right the widow and her party, to her left Murad's the contender's party. In the middle now the Federation Ambassador. She had to admit she liked her. "Who killed Kuruan?"

  


"I did!" Dana answered in Klingon. The murmurs coming from everybody in the room were colored with disbelief to shock, and from anger to outrage.

  


"Quiet!" Azebur ordered. The murmurs died down. "That could be enough to start a war, Ambassador. May I ask why you killed him?"

  


"He had been bugging me all night, constantly trying to seduce me. I made it pretty clear to him that I wasn't interested. Then he followed me when I left the party. He still wanted sex, I told him, again I wasn't interested. He said he didn't care whether I was interested, basically making it clear to me that he intended to rape me. We pulled our swords, we fought, he's a head shorter," Dana said a bit gruffly, getting irritated again as she remembered the night before.

  


"She's lying!" the widow screamed. So did some of the Klingons in High Council.

  


"No Human, especially not a small, weak, female specimen like that could ever defeat a Klingon warrior in personal combat," one of the High Council's protestors elaborated.

  


"Not that it would have mattered, but him being completely drunk out of his mind helped," Dana told him sarcastically.

  


"My husband, would never begin something with another woman!" the widow screamed

  


Dana turned toward her and added sarcastically, "Ah, yes, and every woman who ever believed that, was never wrong."

  


"We have very different rituals, when it comes to mating, Ambassador. Are you certain you could not have interpreted his advances in the wrong way?" a Council member asked.

  


"Oh, trust me, I now everything about Klingon mating rituals. Klarok here was so free to teach me all about it. It's a shame I was incapable of teaching him everything about Human mating rituals," Dana answered him, looking darkly at Klarok, who was part of the Klingon High Council. The room seemed stunned for a moment. In the corner of her eye, Dana caught a little smile on Murad's face.

  


"It's true," Klarok answered, keeping his expression neutral. For a moment everybody in the room fell silent, apparently a little shocked.

  


"Madam Chancellor, the Ambassador's and Chairman Klarok's testimony prove that Kuruan disgraced himself by trying to force himself onto an unwilling woman. This increases my right to his land and titles," Murad stated.

  


*Something about him is familiar,* Dana thought, trying to remember. *I saw him several times, at a gathering, a party . . . sparring with MacLeod!* She went over last night's happenings. She had been really irritated, far more than she should have been and she pulled her sword first. Had he really been that threatening? She made her decision, and while Murad was still pleading his case, she shuffled over to the widow. She looked at MacLeod, who was still standing behind the guards at the entrance, and grinned at him. The answering look was readable even across the distance. It said, 'Oh no, please don't do whatever you're thinking about doing.'

  


"Brek'tal," she whispered in Mighkel's - the widow's - ear.

  


"Get away," she whispered back in a soft growl.

  


"Do you want your husband's house to end?" she whispered in accusation.

  


"No, but there's nothing that can be done about it," Mighkel whispered back in irritation.

  


"I'm willing to try. Now trust me and do the Brek'tal ritual," Dana insisted. Mighkel looked at her in a strange way, trying to appraise the Human Ambassador. When it took too long for Dana's tastes, she added, "Come on, we don't have much time. If Azebur makes a decision, it's over."

  


Mighkel pulled someone from her group in front of them, then said to Dana in a loud voice, "Go'Eveh lu cha wabeh Mo'ka'richos!"

  


"Go'Eveh lu cha wabeh to va re'Luk!" Dana added in an equally loud voice. As everybody in the room had gone deathly silent.

  


Mighkel, suddenly eager to see what the Ambassador was up to, pulled on the man she had put in front of them in order to get him out of his shocked state. It worked, and he said, "Ghos ma'lu Kah." Then Mighkel bent down, and she and Dana shared a kiss.

  


Everybody in the room started talking and yelling, mostly in outrage and shock.

  


"SILENCE!!!" Azebur yelled through the room, everybody became less loud. But didn't quite stop speaking. "I said SILENCE!!!" she yelled again, this time everybody stopped talking. Dana had walked to the center of the circle during the chaos.

  


"Are you trying to mock us?! I'm half tempted to cut your head off!" Azebur fumed at her.

  


"No mockery what so ever, Chancellor," Dana said, calmly.

  


"What was it then!?" Azebur asked angrily.

  


"I believe it's called the Brek'tal ritual, Chancellor. You should know it. I think that makes me the head of the former House of Kuruan," Dana said, her eyes twinkling more and more in amusement.

  


"I know what it is called, but what do you think you've accomplished? No female is allowed to marry another female. That means what you did has no meaning," Azebur asked, getting angrier.

  


"Aaah," Dana answered, lifting her right index finger from her touching fingertips, careful not to let the grin spread across her face and giving only a sly, polite smile. "But this is where things get complicated. You see, I'm not a Klingon citizen . . . at least not yet. I'm a Federation citizen, and we are fully allowed to marry other women. Actually we are allowed to marry multiple women, and / or multiple men if we choose to do so. All those different cultures in one Federation, you see. Which means, I'm married, and Mighkel is now also a Federation citizen in addition to her Klingon citizenship, earning her all kinds of rights she didn't have before. Isn't that so, Duran!? My legal advisor," she elaborated for the Klingons.

  


MacLeod had to nudge Duran in order to get him to say something, "Yes, yes, I think that's right."

  


"Of course," Dana answered, smiling a sly smile, "there is the possibility that I need a Federation marriage ritual, since you don't allow women to be married . . . but under the rules of the Brek'tal ritual I don't actually have to accept the loser's wife as my own, in order to lead his House, which gives me plenty of time to actually perform a Federation marriage ritual, if it would turn out to be necessary."

  


"No female is allowed to lead a Klingon House, so marriage or not, you still don't lead the house. What would you want with a Klingon House anyway?" Azebur said smugly. By now she stood right in front of Dana, which let her look down upon her menacingly. Dana however was in the least bit intimidated.

  


"I'm not a Klingon female. I'm Human and a Federation citizen, and we are fully allowed to lead anything we want to, including a Klingon house. And who said I want the house? Perhaps I just want the woman," Dana answered her, giving Mighkel a simulated, lustful gaze and grin. Dana turned back to Azebur and said, "Either way, we're in a big legal mess which would have come to our doorsteps sooner or later but will still take some time to sort out. Besides, if a Klingon woman is not even allowed to lead a house, what are you doing as the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council?"

  


"There are several extremely rare, exceptional circumstances that allow me Chancellorship, and you know it," Azebur said, a lot more angry, but also a lot less certain.

  


"Exactly, and what would you call this marriage? Normal circumstances, everyday problems? I think not. Which means: if a woman is allowed to lead the Council under unusual circumstances, than a woman should - even easier - be allowed to lead a measly House under unusual circumstances. Either that, or you . . . step . . . down," Dana said, letting a sly grin spread on her face while thinking, *Gotcha.* She knew they couldn't let her step down. It would almost certainly lead to civil war, and following that war one with the Federation, something they could not even remotely afford.

  


Dana saw the carefully controlled rage in Azebur's eyes, and she heard the difficulty with which she kept her voice neutral as she said, "This hearing is adjourned. We'll have study this . . . legal precedent. We will reconvene tomorrow, same time. Now everybody out!"

  


Dana turned around, and signaled Mighkel to follow her. When she reached MacLeod, Duran and the Vulcan guard, MacLeod had insisted on taking with them - she gave him a thankful smile for that - she ordered, "Duran, go back to the Embassy - you go with him. Tell everybody what happened and that I won't be there for about a day. Make sure you find somebody who can perform a marriage ceremony if it should become necessary."

  


"Yes, ma'am, I don't think I have to remind you what complications this will bring, do I? No, I didn't think so," he answered a little irritated and with a look that said, 'I hope you know what you're doing.' He and the Vulcan guard left.

  


MacLeod sighed deeply, "What is it with you and trouble?"

  


Dana grinned an evil grin and answered, "I like it."

  


*****

  


Once everybody except Azebur and the High Council had left Council chambers, she cursed several nasty Klingon curses.

  


"What does she think she's doing!?!" she screamed. "Doesn't she understand, she plunged us all into doom!"

  


"We can't let you step down! We'll be thrown into full civil war virtually immediately," a council member said, angrily.

  


"She used loop holes. Can we find one, which allows us to give Murad what he wants without Azebur having to step down?" another one asked.

  


"I've already sent people looking, but . . . I don't think there are any," another answered.

  


"A slight majority wants a war with the Federation. Azebur as the Chancellor - being Gorkon's daughter - is the only way we can go ahead with what must be done in order to survive - an alliance with the Federation," another council member said.

  


"Do you think it's possible this is what the Federation planned all along - let us fight amongst ourselves in a civil war, tire us out, then attack when we can no longer fight back?" another asked.

  


"I highly doubt that," Azebur said. "There are to many different people in the Federation. This would have to be done by Starfleet without consent of the Federation Council, an illegal action."

  


"Then could she really be so evil, that she'd all do this just to get Mighkel as her wife?" a sixth council member answered.

  


"No, I know her too well for that," Klarok said forcibly. "I don't believe that she thought that little about our relationship."

  


"I don't know," Azebur said, defeated. "What I do know is that if we create this law of special dispensation and give Mighkel her House, Murad will challenge the decision and he's allowed to. It would look too much like a decision made to make sure I'm in this position, which in a way is true."

  


"You can't take him," Klarok said. "I've seen him fight. He's better than you, and he's a man. He's got strength on you too."

  


"If he wins," she said sadly, "then he'll be the new head of the Council on top of having Kuruan's and my family's titles and land."

  


"We can't let that happen. Somebody who would challenge you in these kinds of circumstances is dishonorable," one of them said.

  


"Perhaps the Ambassador has an ulterior reason . . . and a solution to our problem," somebody close to Azebur said.

  


"Let's hope so," Azebur said. "Because I can't think of anything else to do."

  


*****

  


Klarok slammed the cup of Bloodwine down in one gulp and said to the bartender, "Another one."

  


"Well, well, I've been looking for you," MacLeod said as he sat down next to him.

  


"What do you want, bodyguard?" he growled at MacLeod.

  


"I'm going to give you some advice - on women," MacLeod told him coolly.

  


"Why would you do that?" Klarok said, angry.

  


"Because you're drinking yourself into obliteration, because of one. Which is not good for the present situation," MacLeod answered.

  


"I'm not drinking because of Josie," he answered angrily. "I'm drinking because of a certain 'legal' 'precedent'. Which you, dumb bodyguard, probably don't understand anyway."

  


MacLeod chuckled and answered, "Which was caused by Josie."

  


Klarok snorted. "OK, so in a way I am drinking because of her, but not the way you think."

  


"Are you certain about that?" MacLeod asked.

  


Klarok didn't understand why, but he was compelled to answer the truth, "OK, part of why I'm drinking is in the way you think."

  


"So why don't go and make up?" MacLeod asked him.

  


"She had me thrown out of the embassy and told me she never wanted to see me again," Klarok said. "I rather think she meant it."

  


"Trust me, I know Human women. All she wants you to do is apologize, concede she's right, and do exactly what you didn't want to do in the first place. Of course they want you to do that whether they're right or not, but this time she's right," MacLeod explained to him, while he thought to himself, *After seven hundred years of putting up with them, I should.*

  


Klarok looked at him for a second before asking, "That's why you're doing this right? Increase Federation - Klingon relations by allowing a romantic relationship to succeed?"

  


"Of course, so what do you say?" Duncan answered, thinking to himself, *Actually, as long as you're around Dana you'll keep her from making my life miserable. Oh man, there'll come a time when I'll pay her back.*

  


"Lead the way," Klarok answered. They walked to the exit, and MacLeod turned left once he was through.

  


"It's the other way to the embassy," Klarok said.

  


"She's not at the embassy. She is at the late Kuruan's house. It took us some time get the address, since those little bastards went there without waiting for us. She should be there by now," Duncan explained.

  


*****

  


Kuruan's house.

  


*Well, well, well,* Dana thought sarcastically, standing in front of the gate. *So this is my new house, eh? And it already starts by having to fight my way inside. Just perfect.*

  


"Open up!" Dana shouted.

  


"Go away. The mistress said you're not wanted here!" a voice shouted.

  


"I'm your mistress, now open up before I have to kick it open!" Dana yelled. A few laughs followed with something that sounded suspiciously like, 'I'd like to see you try.'

  


"Ok!" she yelled, pulling out her phaser and using it to destroy the lock. She put it away again and kicked open the gate.

  


"You never said anything about using a phaser first," the Klingon to her right growled, a bat'leth in his hands.

  


"I never said anything about not using a phaser either," she grinned at him. He attacked and so did the second guard to her left. Dana avoided the right Klingon's downward swipe, grabbed him by his head, and used his own momentum to fling him all the way around to her left, where she let him fly and neatly barrel into the other Klingon.

  


She walked further into the compound. Another two Klingons ran at her. She stopped walking and waited. Just in time she stepped out of the way of the left Klingon and right in the path of the Klingon coming from the right. The Klingon's timing thus was off, and instead of embedding his blade in her body, he imbedded his stomach in her extended foot. He doubled over, she grabbed his head, and slammed his face into her knee, her right elbow slammed into his neck, and he went down for the count.

  


The Klingon that was on her left had regained his footing and attacked her with a downward swipe of his bat'leth. She danced aside and stepped her right foot on his bat'leth, forcing it out of his hands. This brought them in perfect position for her to grab his hand and then slam herself to the ground, letting his neck slam onto her shoulder. He too was instantly unconscious.

  


She walked further to the entrance of the house. Four Klingons - two carrying bat'leths, the others d'k tagh daggers - came out, and advanced on her.

  


"Oh, you honorable Klingons wouldn't attack an unarmed sweet, little, Human female like me four on one would you?" Dana asked them sweetly. The four of them looked at each other, then one of them stepped forward. *Klingon honor,* Dana thought, *such a convenience.* The Klingon carrying a bat'leth attacked with a horizontal swipe of his blade. She jumped back and grabbed the blade with her own hands, then twisted it upward, bringing the two of them closer together and opened up his midriff for an attack. Her knee found his stomach, doubling him over and allowing her to twist the bat'leth out of his hands. Then she smashed the back of the blade on his head, and he went down. She threw the sword to the side.

  


The second Klingon attacked with his dagger. He held it above his head and tried to plunge it into her. Dana blocked his hands but didn't stop there. She grabbed them, twisted herself around and pulled him over her back. Since he was already in a downward motion, it went easy. She held onto his arm by his wrist and twisted it. He screamed and dropped the knife. With her left hand remained on his wrist, she grabbed him by his shoulder with her right and pulled him up. Since this brought his arm into a painful position, he actively tried to get up with her to ease the pain. She used it to pull him along in a tight circle, maximizing his speed, before slamming his head into a nearby tree. She let go of his arm. At the same she stretched her leg above the back of his head, and let it drop hard on the back of his head.

  


She turned around and saw the third Klingon, this one too with a dagger, advance on her. She walked toward him just like he walked toward her. Suddenly as she came close, she ran straight at him. He - not expecting it - was too late to react. She, using her speed, ran straight up him letting her first two steps slam into his chest hard. Then her right foot shot higher and kicked him into the side of his head. He staggered to his right, bending forward to keep his balance. Dana corkscrewed to her left, landed on her right foot and used her momentum to smash her left foot on his head, and he dropped to the floor.

  


The final Klingon seemed more wary, not wanting to underestimate her like his mates had done. They circled for a few seconds before he attacked, giving a short jab with his bat'leth. The problem with Klingon martial arts is that they hardly use their feet, so they hardly ever expect anyone else to do so. Dana ducked, twisting her body in a swipe with her legs and easily kicked his legs from under him. He dropped on his back. She grabbed his bat'leth, pulled it from his hands and threw it to the side. She grabbed him by throat with her right hand, squeezed hard and pulled him up.

  


"You're coming with me," she said to him, pulling him along by his throat. He tried to pull her hand from his throat and noticed that it wasn't that easy. Her left hand punched him in the face, and she told him, wiggling her left index finger warningly, "Uh, uh."

  


She slammed her left hand on the door into the house and yelled in Klingon, "Open up, because I'm starting to get fed up!"

  


"The mistress ordered . . ." a young, squeaky voice said.

  


"I'm your mistress," Dana interrupted. "Besides, you either open this door, or I'll kill him, and then I'll find another way in." Dana heard some fiddling with the lock and the door opened, making a small girl, by Human standards not more then ten years old, visible. "Ssh," Dana told her. "I won't hurt you. Do you know where Mighkel is?"

  


"In there," the girl said, pointing her finger shakingly, still remembering how the weak-looking Human female had taken care of eight Klingon warriors without much effort.

  


"Good girl," Dana told her, smiling, then stroked the girl's hair once. "Do you know where the other servants are?"

  


"S-some left, o-others took a day off, s-since the house is ending a-anyway. Others have other d-duties," the child shakingly said.

  


"And they put you in charge of the door?" Dana asked, concerned.

  


"M-mama did. She needed to clean up the barn," the girl answered getting less frightened.

  


"All right, last question. Do you have the key to Mighkel's room?"

  


"No, only Mighkel has a key to her room," the girl answered.

  


"Very good, go get your mother, okay? Tell her her mistress needs her on her regular post," Dana said to her. The girl nodded and ran off. Dana pulled the Klingon, who was getting increasingly uncomfortable, to the door to Mighkel's room.

  


"Mighkel! Open the damn door," Dana yelled, abandoning Klingon in her anger, knowing that Mighkel understood English.

  


"Get away! We don't need you," Mighkel yelled back.

  


"Open the fucking door, or I'll kill this guard and then kick the door in!" Dana practically growled. She heard the lock mechanism turning and saw the door opening. Dana pushed the Klingon away and stepped through the door. She slammed the door closed behind her and said, "You and I are going to have a little talk, because you don't treat people who're trying to help you like this. Sending your guards out to kill me?"

  


"You don't want to help me, you just want me as your lover," Mighkel answered coldly.

  


Dana groaned, then threw her head back, and started to rub her forehead with the fingers on her right head, all of that in frustration as she sighed, "Children." She looked back at Mighkel, "Look, I said that in the Council's hall because telling them, 'I married her just because I want to buy a little time to solve her husband's murder' would never have held up as legitimate reason for marriage, and they'd nullify it immediately."

  


"What's there to solve? You killed him, or was that a lie too?" Mighkel accused.

  


"I killed him, but I did not murder him. You see, Murad used me as a weapon to murder your husband," Dana explained as patiently as possible.

  


"How could he do that?" Mighkel asked, unconvinced.

  


"A little sexual tension, a few drugs, some alcohol, a few pheromones, a few hormones, and you've got everything you need," Dana said, then turned around to think a little. She ordered Mighkel. "You go get your husband out of storage and . . ."

  


"I'm not doing anything. You're not my wife, or mistress - the Chancellor never said you were. Now you're going to explain me exactly . . . Aaah!" Mighkel interrupted Dana, then placed an arm on her shoulder in order to turn her around. Dana grabbed the hand on her shoulder and twisted it viciously as she turned around to face Mighkel again. A hard kick to the side of Mighkel's knee - not enough to break it - sent Mighkel down to her knees. A knock on the door interrupted Dana.

  


"What?!" Dana shouted. The door opened, and a grown Klingon woman stood there, most likely the young girl's mother.

  


"Ambassador, Council Chairman Klarok wishes to speak with you. And your bodyguard, MacLeod, said he was checking the grounds," she said a little quietly.

  


*So that was the business you had to take care of, MacLeod. You bastard,* Dana thought briefly. "Tell him he can wait. I've got business to take care of . . . and it's mistress to you!" Dana said angrily and saw the woman's look toward Mighkel, who was still on her knees. "Ah! Loyalty to your old mistress eh? I've got a feeling though, that she'll be thinking of me as her mistress soon as well," Dana observed and twisted Mighkel's arm a little further.

  


"Aaah!" she screamed in pain.

  


"Yes, mistress," the woman said and closed the door once more.

  


Dana grabbed Mighkel's throat and bent forward to put her head close to Mighkel's. "Now, you're going to listen to me, and you're going to listen to me very carefully. If Azebur stops being Chancellor of the Council, there's going to be civil war within the Empire. One side wants or at least sees the necessity of our alliance. The other side wants war with us. That side will undoubtly start attacking the Federation, at which point the Federation is forced to defend itself and will declare war on you. You had a small chance at winning a war against us, but if, at the same time, there's a civil war going on, you don't stand a chance. Azebur either has to step down or make a law that allows women special dispensation to lead a house. If she does the last, Murad can challenge her on her decision in personal combat, and he doesn't care whether it will cause war or not. He just wants power. I could not allow a dishonorable p'tagh like that on the Council, which - with your titles and lands - he soon would be. In short," Dana removed her right hand from Mighkel's throat, using her thumb and index finger to show Mighkel how close, "I saw myself forced to bring the Klingon Empire and the Federation this close to a devastating war. And unless you start doing exactly as I say, that is precisely what's going to happen . . . tomorrow!! Do you understand me!?"

  


Mighkel nodded.

  


"Good," Dana let her go. "Now you're going to go get your husband and bring him in a room in this house . . . or you're going to make sure I can get access to him by tomorrow at eight o'clock. You are also going to make sure there will be everything there that I need to perform an autopsy. If you don't know everything I need, contact the Federation Embassy. They will tell you. Wake me up tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. Now hurry!"

  


"Yes . . . mistress," Mighkel said and stepped through the door.

  


Dana stepped through the door briefly also. "Hey!" Dana yelled at the woman who had just given her the news. "Tell Klarok he can come in."

  


Dana went back into the room. Hands folded in front of her chest, she waited in the middle of the bedroom. "What d'ya want!?" she asked coldly, as he walked into the room.

  


"To apologize," he answered.

  


"Oh, really? And why is that? Because MacLeod told you so?" Dana asked him with a cold look on her face.

  


"No, because MacLeod told me that it was necessary in order to continue our relationship. I want to see where it might lead," he answered her.

  


*Good answer,* she conceded to herself. Her face softened just a notch. "That's all?" she asked coolly and turned around so she didn't have to look at him, letting a little smile creep onto her face.

  


"Well, that and the understanding that you were right. We definitely should try out Terran mating practices, and well . . . I apologize for not being able to contain myself last night," Klarok said, not really liking what he said even though he meant it.

  


"I think there's actually an explanation for our mutual erratic behaviour, but that'll have to wait until the hearing tomorrow," she said. She turned around and smiled a seductive smile at him.

  


"So you do have something up your sleeve," Klarok said, grinning, using one of the idioms she had taught him.

  


"Always," she said, as she placed her arms around his neck, stood on her toes, pulled him down a little and kissed him.

  


"So this is 'making up'?" Klarok asked, remembering the term MacLeod used. "Is it always this easy?"

  


"Sometimes," Dana grinned at him. She turned on the computer in the room, chose communications and opened a channel to the embassy.

  


"Yes, Ambassador," the aide on the screen said.

  


"Can you pinpoint my coordinates?" Dana asked her.

  


"Yes," she answered.

  


"Good, beam my mattress to here," Dana ordered.

  


"Ma'am?" the woman asked, bewildered.

  


"Just do it. Taelman out," Dana said. A minute later the mattress materialized, and then she put it on the bed. It didn't fill the bed completely, but it would have to do. "Take off your clothes and lie on the bed," Dana ordered Klarok.


	10. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9_

  


"Mistress!" Mighkel yelled, while slamming her hand on the door repeatedly. "It's eight o'clock. Mistress! Wake up!"

  


"I'm awake!" a hazy voice from behind the door answered, "I'll be out in a minute."

  


Dana stretched herself out and yawned. "Wake up, Klarok!" she said loudly in his ear.

  


He sat up abruptly. "What?" he said. She grinned at him.

  


*****

  


Three hours later.

  


She was still trying to wash the taste out of her mouth. The Klingon's dinner menu might be tasty, but their breakfast she considered disgusting. Klarok had laughed at her disgusted face as she had swallowed the horrible sludge down. He seemed to like his breakfast. Klarok had left by now of course. He needed to be on time for a scheduled Council meeting.

  


For the past one and half hours she'd been examining Kuruan, cutting him open and examining his internal organs. She made notes on her PADD and had the autopsy filmed. It would help Federation doctors a lot when they had to treat Klingon wounded, at a time - undoubtly somewhere down the line - that the Klingons and the Federation would be fighting along side each other. It took her a long time - checking out everything against knowledge stored in the Klingon version of the Internet - to find substances that were not part of the Klingon natural make up and substances that were part of it but had unnatural levels.

  


After she found what she was looking for in Kuruan, she checked herself out. Adrenaline levels were normal, but that was expected, it was a short-lived substance. Testosterone levels, however, were even now still higher then they should be.

  


"You're going down, Murad," she said sinisterly to the corpse and the otherwise empty room.

  


*****

  


Outside Council Building

13:47

  


Approximately twenty Klingons stood between them and the building - them being Dana, Mighkel, MacLeod and five guard Klingons of Mighkel's house – the twenty Klingons all wore markings of Murad's house.

  


"You're not getting inside," the lead Klingon of Murad's forces stated, disrupter pistol drawn as all his men.

  


"Yes, we are," MacLeod answered as he pulled his phaser pistol. The Klingons pulled out disrupter pistols.

  


"Hold it," Dana commanded. "Fighting this out is one thing, but damaging the seat of Klingon High Council with energy blasts? I've got feeling whoever is left will be hunted down and banished to Rura Penthe for good."

  


Murad's forces looked at each other for a moment, then reluctantly put away their disrupters and pulled out there bladed weapons. MacLeod put his phaser back and pulled out his katana. Dana, Mighkel and the five guards followed suit.

  


The battle raged. These Klingons weren't so honorable that they came at them only eight at the time. No, they all came at them. This of course had an advantage. Being out numbered means that it is almost difficult to miss one of your enemies. The draw back is that it's more difficult to avoid getting hit yourself. Over fifteen minutes later the battle still wasn't over, with two Klingons dead on their side and six of their enemies dead.

  


"Josie, Mighkel, get inside, it's already after two. We'll hold off these bastards," MacLeod yelled. They nodded, and with a concentrated effort of the five of them, they made sure Dana and Mighkel got into the building.

  


*****

  


"Madam Chancellor, the Ambassador and Mighkel don't even have the decency to show up," Murad said in Klingon. "I think . . ."

  


"Sorry we're late, Chancellor," Dana interrupted him as she past through the entrance of the Council halls and ran, with Mighkel close behind, to the center of the circle, "but Murad's men were busy keeping us out of this hall by trying to kill us."

  


"Murad!" Azebur exclaimed.

  


"I assure you, Chancellor, if my men did attack the Ambassador's and Mighkel's party, they did so without my knowledge," Murad answered smoothly.

  


"If I find out you're lying Murad, you'll spend the rest of your life on Rura Penthe," Azebur threatened.

  


"Of course, Chancellor." Murad bowed slightly as he said those words, thinking, *Those incompetent fools.*

  


"Oh, he's lying all right, about many things," Dana said as she passed a stack of PADDs to one member of the Klingon High Council. "Please take one and pass the rest down." They did so, and Dana waited until every member of the Council had their own PADD.

  


"This morning," she began, "I performed an autopsy on Kuruan and did some tests on myself. What I found was rather interesting. You see, this all started yesterday when I recognized Murad. I started thinking, went over all the events in my head. I remembered that I pulled out my sword before Kuruan did. Under normal circumstances, I would never do that.

  


"I took the chance, and you know what I found," Dana said, waiting a second before she continued. "As you can see, one of the substances I found in Kuruan's body was a substance that would slightly reorder the make-up of his scent. I checked with my own pheromone receptor. His new scent I would instinctively consider as ugly."

  


"What has this got to do with anything?" Murad asked with a faked indignant look on his face.

  


"Trust me, Chancellor. It will lead to something," Dana answered Azebur's questioning look.

  


"Go on," Azebur told her.

  


"A second substance I found, as you can see on your PADD, diminishes a Klingon's capacity to handle alcohol. And a third activated his sex drive and made my pheromones irresistible to him. As you know, I was already in a relationship with Klarok, which would make any advances by another man only irritable, especially if this man didn't know when to stop," Dana explained. She waited a second to see if anyone had a question. When none came, she continued, "Tests on myself revealed, that my testosterone levels were higher than normal, which means they were at an all-time high two nights ago. Testosterone is the Human male sexual hormone and the hormone that regulates - in both sexes - our aggression, our irritability. Someone with a high testosterone level will start acting instinctively in certain situations. An unknown sound or an unknown smell would normally be something to discard, especially in rather safe situations, but under the influence of testosterone they all become possible threats. Identification of these possible threats, or irritants, like an unwanted man trying to seduce me, will stimulate the production of adrenaline. Given a high enough level of testosterone, which I had that night, there would be a high level of adrenaline production.

  


"Klingons, as most species, have an adrenaline-like substance in their bodies. It makes you impervious to pain, and you get a sense of detachment from reality. Adrenaline in Humans however doesn't stop there - and this is what makes Humans rare, and probably why so many people, including you, underestimated us. First it makes us stronger. With a Human male sometimes up to ten times and a female up to eight times as strong. Second it speeds up our brains to about ten times its normal speed, cutting our reaction time to approximately a third of our normal response time. If our testosterone levels are high in combination with a high adrenaline level, we become irritable to the extreme, almost everything will seem a threat, and every threat must be dealt with. We'll be like caged animals ready to strike out at anything, we'll have no conscience, we'll be three times faster and up to ten times stronger than normal. We'd be virtually unstoppable, vicious killers. Perfect for eliminating a rival, drugged out fellow Klingon, wasn't I, Murad? You used me to murder Kuruan."

  


"I did no such thing," Murad said, an irritated look on his face. "How, for example, do you know that it was two nights ago that your testosterone levels were at their pique? Why couldn't have happened before, or after?"

  


"Simple, that night I killed Kuruan in an extremely agitated condition. I have not been agitated since, I have eliminated all natural testosterone production spurts, except for the one who drugged me, there are no artificial testosterone sources on Q'onos and nobody afterwards came close enough to drug me, except my food, but nobody in Mighkel's house stands to gain from putting testosterone in me," Dana answered him with cool force.

  


"I see, from your evidence, obviously somebody has drugged you that night, but it was not me," Murad stated with conviction.

  


"Really?" Dana answered. "Than how come you knew so quickly that Kuruan was dead? Even this morning some of the other Klingons who could lay claim to Kuruan's lands and titles didn't even know Kuruan was dead. Yet you knew early yesterday morning, as if you had watched me kill Kuruan yourself. I saw you watching me spar with my bodyguard, so you knew I was good enough to beat a drunken Klingon. Over the course of the last week I've seen you take quite an interest in me. You saw me with Klarok, thus you knew I would have no interests in another man. You saw Kuruan appraising me several times, knowing that he found me attractive. Then it was easy: petition the Federation for insight into our physiology," Dana tapped a button on her PADD, all the PADDs switched to another screen, showing Murad's request for Human physiology. "Exactly five days ago, get the testosterone and the drugs for Kuruan and slip it to us at a gathering where we both were, two nights ago. I remember me apologizing to you, Human courtesy reflex, when you bumped against me. And you stretched your arm across my plate to grab something to eat. That was the only time I could have been slipped the testosterone, and you slipped it to me!"

  


"Murad, is this true?" Azebur asked sternly.

  


"No, she's lying! I demand satisfaction!" Murad exclaimed.

  


"Fine!" Dana exclaimed as well, as she pulled her sword from under her coat, "Let's do it, right here, right now!" Mighkel stepped out of the way as Murad pulled the bat'leth from his back.

  


Dana blocked Murad's first downward swing. "A drunken Klingon is something other than fully sober one, Human. You'll never win!"

  


"Then it's a good thing, you're nothing more but a dishonorable p'tagh, isn't it?" she sneered at him.

  


"Bitch!" he yelled as he removed his bat'leth from her blade and swung it at her left side. She blocked it easily. She tried to attack, but the other side of the bat'leth prevented that, and she was forced to block. *I really should've sparred more with Klarok, dumb, dumb! Hormones!* Dana chided herself. It took her about a minute of defensive battle before she adjusted to the weapon that could strike on both sides. After which it was her battle. She easily blocked his swings and forced him on the defensive. Then she tripped in a crack between the tiles, and she was imbalanced for a second.

  


Murad used it to try and hack her head off. The bat'leth swiped down upon her diagonally from her left. Without thinking, she used the opening. She brought up her sword and stuck it through one of the holding openings in Murad's bat'leth. Murad roared in pain as her sword cut off one of his fingers and almost did the same to a second. Dana twisted herself to her right while moving to her left and pulled the bat'leth from his hands. It clanged against a pillar a few meters away. She was to his right side now, and she used her momentum to turn all the way around. She jumped up to just the right height for the last half of the circle. Her sword cut through his neck easily, and his head dropped to the floor. She backed up quickly to avoid the red blood spurting from his neck.

  


"I guess that means he was lying," Dana said out loud as she pulled a piece of cloth from her coat and started cleaning her sword.

  


"Yes, it does," Azebur broke through the stunned silence of the Klingons around them. None of them had ever expected her to win, and especially not this quickly or brutally. "Somebody clean up this mess!" she ordered, and a few guards came out and started pulling Murad's body away.

  


"From this moment on women can be given - under unusual circumstances - special dispensation to lead a Klingon House. And you're the first Mighkel," Azebur stated out loud for everybody to hear. Then she stepped down, walked to Dana, and quietly said to her, "I think I must thank you. If Murad had gained Kuruan's titles and lands, he would've gotten on the High Council . . . such a dishonorable bastard on it, would not have been good."

  


"No need to thank me. The Federation couldn't afford someone like that in your government either," Dana explained.

  


Azebur gave her a smile, then - before walking out of the hall - she stated with authority, "This hearing is dismissed."

  


Mighkel walked to Dana and said, "How can I ever thank you?"

  


"Divorce me. No offense, but I'm interested in a certain Klingon male," Dana said, looking over Mighkel's shoulder, and seeing Klarok waiting there as the only one of the Council left.

  


"With pleasure. No offense, but I'm just not a . . . lesbian. Is that the term?" Mighkel said, pleased that she had remembered as Dana nodded her affirmative. Mighkel smashed the back of her hand in Dana's face, careful not to really hurt her. "N'Gos tlhogh cha!" she exclaimed and spit to the floor.

  


"Thank you," Dana answered grinning. Mighkel walked off, passing her. She saw Klarok walk towards her.

  


"Well!" MacLeod called from behind Dana, startling her as his presence buzzed in her head. "It seems we missed the party!" Loud Klingon laughter followed the statement.

  


Dana turned around as Klarok walked next to her, and they walked towards MacLeod, the two surviving Klingons and Mighkel who had reached them.

  


"Celebrate your victory, men. You've deserved it," Mighkel said as she passed them by.

  


"Yes . . . Mistress?" their statement was as much an affirmative as a question. Mighkel nodded.

  


"Lieutenant, from the looks of things we missed the party," Dana observed, as she saw them covered in crimson, thick, Klingon blood from head to toe. Duncan grinned, and the Klingons laughed out loud. "But Lieutenant, what did I say to you about proper attire in my presence? I think you'll have to run around the compound again, a hundred laps this time."

  


"What!" MacLeod exclaimed, indignant.

  


"Just kidding, just kidding," Dana grinned at him. MacLeod looked up at the sky, exasperated.

  


*****

  


Two days later.

  


Dana was on her way to Klarok's house, alone. It had taken some convincing in order for MacLeod not to come. The thought of MacLeod hovering around her when she was with her lover had been horrifying. One night of that was bad enough. She grinned as she thought about what Klarok and she would be doing tonight. First sparring, of course, and teaching each other about their cultures' weapons. Then later sex, Human or Klingon, she didn't know. She would have to see in what mood they both were.

  


Suddenly a Klingon rounded the corner she was close to. She saw something metallic flash, and the next thing she felt was a painful stab in her back right before the metal of a d'k tagh dagger plunged in her chest. She fell down to her knees and leaned herself against the wall of the house she'd been passing.

  


A third Klingon arrived, grinning viciously. "You disgraced our Master. You have to pay."

  


"I didn't . . . disgrace him. He did that . . . himself," she wheezed out. Apparently that stab in her chest had punctured a lung. She continued, "I just . . . brought his disgrace . . . to the light."

  


"I don't care," he answered and plunged his dagger into her stomach, twisted several times and pulled it out, bringing a large portion of her intestines with it.

  


"That . . . was a . . . very . . . big . . . mistake," Dana managed to choke out before the darkness claimed her.

  


"Put her in the alley, we don't want her found that easy, do we?" the Klingon ordered, and his companions did as he said.

  


*****

  


Marco Darren, 450-year-old Immortal headhunter, saw the whole proceedings from his hiding place. He had arrived the day before and had thought now had been the perfect opportunity to challenge Dana Katherine Scully, 330-year-old student of Duncan MacLeod. She would be a perfect addition to his already impressive power. However, those Klingons had beat him to it. He hated that. Once they left, he walked towards her regenerating body.

  


When he reached her, he looked down upon her from his impressive two meters and seven centimeters height. He wasn't evil. He wasn't good. He usually left mortals alone, except when they seriously bugged him, or actively got in his way.

  


His sense of honor showed through as he grinned broadly and said, "I guess we're going to have to do this another day. I'll warm them up for ya." He chuckled and followed the three Klingons.

  


Five minutes later he stepped in the bar he had seen the Klingons enter not twenty seconds earlier. The bar, as most Klingon bars, was loud and crowded. Almost every table was filled with Klingons drinking Bloodwine and sharing tales of glorious battles. Klingon women were there as well, some trying to seduce men, others were being seduced by men. Here and there a non-Klingon trader was doing business with a Klingon.

  


"So, what's the preferred alcoholic beverage around here?" Marco asked the bartender.

  


"Bloodwine," the bartender answered. "And yes, blood is brewed in it. Want some, Human?" The burly bartender laughed and a few Klingons joined in with him.

  


"Yes, give me some," he said as he threw a few Klingon coins on the counter.

  


"Be careful, this stuff is rather strong," the bartender chuckled.

  


"Don't worry, I've got a strong tolerance for alcohol," Marco answered and took a sip. It tasted rather good.

  


"For a Human, perhaps," the bartender said, grinning.

  


"No, for every race," Marco answered absentmindedly as he scanned the bar. Once he saw the three Klingons, he stepped over to the table they were occupying. Several other Klingons were sitting there as well. One was telling a story.

  


"May I join you? Thank you," he said as he pulled a chair up and sat in it. He received a few angry looks from the Klingons, but they soon turned their attention back to the story. He took a swallow of his Bloodwine and listened to the story. It was about a Klingon avenging the murder of his wife and children after he returned from the battle, during which the wife and children were murdered.

  


Once the Klingon was through talking, Marco asked, "Would you say it's possible for a bird from Earth to be right here on Q'onos?"

  


"Impossible," one of the three Klingons he had followed answered.

  


"Yeah, I thought so . . . that story you just told, that reminds me of a legend from Earth, a legend about vengeance, about vengeance incarnated. Would you like me to tell?" Marco asked enigmatically.

  


"Yes, tell. I'd like to know some of your Human stories," the storyteller answered enthusiastically.

  


"Well, then . . . there was once a man named Eric Draven . . ." Marco started, remembering a movie from the nineteen nineties.

  


*****

  


Dana woke up with a gasp. All thoughts of Klarok were gone. Only one thing was in her mind at this time: those three Klingons were going to die.

  


But where had they gone? Dana chose a direction, the wrong direction. It would take her some time before she found them.

  


*****

  


" . . . and so ends the story of Eric Draven and 'the Crow'. Knowing this story, you should always remember the legend of 'the Crow': In ancient times people believed that a crow brought the souls of the dead to heaven. But sometimes a soul carries so much pain with it that it can't rest in peace. And sometimes, just sometimes, a crow can bring such a soul back to put the wrong things right," Marco finished.

  


"Magnificent, truly magnificent!" the storyteller exclaimed clapping his hands. Many of the other Klingons who had gathered around to listen to his gored-up version of 'the Crow' made similar sentiments public by exclaims and grunts.

  


"The story isn't finished yet, though," Marco grinned enigmatically, looking around the crowd, his gaze finally resting on the three Klingons who had killed Dana. "Sometimes a herald is sent to those who will die in the crow's inferno . . . I saw you three kill that woman an hour or so back. Not very honorable was it? At least not to our standards. Remember when I asked you about that Earth bird . . . well, I saw a crow land on the roof of the building that made up one side of the alley, you dumped her in." Marco laughed hard with a sinister laugh then swallowed down the last of the Bloodwine. He stood up, noticed only a little of the alcohol's effects and said, "I must be off, I don't want to be anywhere close to those three when that woman crow comes for them. Sometimes there's collateral damage you see." He laughed again and walked out the bar, leaving three very nervous Klingons inside.

  


*What to do now?* he asked himself as he chose a random direction.

  


After about twenty minutes of walking he found another bar and decided to enter it.

  


"Bloodwine," he ordered the bartender.

  


"One Bloodwine," the thin bartender said a few seconds later as he placed the cup in front of Marco.

  


Marco took the metal cup and drank from it.

  


"Well, hello there, handsome. I didn't know Humans came this big and strong," a Klingon woman, only a little shorter than he, said with a growl.

  


"Go away, you don't want me. Trust me," Marco hissed at her.

  


"Oh, no. I know what I want, and it's you," she growled at him.

  


Marco looked at her for a second, looked around and saw something he thought he recognized. "Go use somebody else to make your boyfriend jealous."

  


"I would never use you for such a thing, you look far too good," she growled and grinned at him.

  


"What are you doing with my woman?" the Klingon male Marco had just spotted asked as he arrived at the scene.

  


"I'm not your woman anymore, G'rak," the woman protested.

  


"I'm not doing anything with her! I don't even like her," Marco added for good measure.

  


"Oh, so now you insult my girlfriend!" G'rak hissed.

  


"Great, real great." Marco muttered, getting angry.

  


"Leave him alone, G'rak. He's just a Human. He won't stand a chance against you. If you want to fight someone, fight me," the woman told her apparently ex-boyfriend, a threat hanging in the tone of her voice while she placed herself between him and Marco.

  


"Stay out of this, Mirka!" G'rak growled. Suddenly they both felt something cold and sharp against their necks. They looked along it and found that the blade stretched from G'rak's neck to behind Mirka's neck and was held by Marco.

  


"Yes, Mirka. Stay out this, dear. It's been a long time since I killed a fool like him. It'll be my pleasure," Marco said, grinning a malicious smile.

  


"You want a fight, Human, you can have one," G'rak hissed.

  


Suddenly there was a loud bang on the bar. All three of them looked and saw a disruptor pistol trained at them. They followed the arm and saw the bartender. "Outside!" he threatened. "Or pay the damage up front!"

  


"Let's go outside, shall we?" Marco grinned.

  


Once they were outside, most of the people in the bar were as well in order to watch the fight.

  


G'rak pulled out his bat'leth. Marco swivelled his sword around a few times before holding it up. The Klingons seemed a bit astonished that he was able to pull it off with such a large sword. G'rak knew instantly that the sword wasn't for decoration as he had thought.

  


G'rak attacked, and Marco blocked easily. He swung his sword in a nice arc for G'rak's neck, which G'rak blocked. G'rak felt the vibration through his bat'leth and was starting to see that he had seriously underestimated the Human.

  


Marco pulled his sword back and thrust it forward. G'rak jumped to the side when he noticed the sword already coming at him. He blocked it, stepped back a little and let his bat'leth swivel to a defensive position before he attacked Marco with a serious of rapid blows, feints and swipes. Marco blocked or parried each of them easily. G'rak was holding his bat'leth horizontally in front of his body.

  


"You're good . . . for a mortal," Marco added the last three words menacingly, then put his sword over his head and brought it down rapidly, point almost vertically downward.

  


G'rak had no idea what he was trying, but the sword wouldn't even come anywhere close to his body. He grinned. He knew he had the stupid Human. That idea quickly vanished as he heard metal on metal. He looked at his bat'leth and saw Marco's sword stick through one of the openings in it.

  


Marco brought his foot down upon the bat'leth and slammed it to the floor, pulling G'rak along with it. Then Marco pulled his sword out of the cracked pavement and with an easy, practiced swipe severed G'rak's head from his shoulders. It bounced on the floor several times before coming to a rest almost two meters away. Marco quickly jumped aside to avoid the copious amount blood that spurted from G'rak's neck. Some of it hit his boot anyway.

  


"Damn! My boot!" he exclaimed, and tried to wipe it clean as best as he could, then did the same with his sword and deposited it back in his coat. He saw the Klingons stare, and joked, "What?! Never seen a Human clean his boot before?!"

  


The Klingons laughed, then, as the laughter started to die down, one of them said, "Not after he cut off a Klingon's head!" The Klingons started laughing again and slowly poured back into the bar.

  


Marco followed, found his way back to his drink and gulped it down. "Another one, bartender! Oh, hell!" he shouted in announcement as he dropped the needed cash on the counter. "I won! A Bloodwine for everybody!" Every Klingon in the bar cheered before going back to what they were doing. *Well, that was rather nice, and the garbage pickup in the morning will just come and pick up the body in the morning. No worrying about any cops. A guy could begin to like this place,* Marco thought as he took a gulp from his new Bloodwine.

  


"Well," Mirka said as she leaned seductively against the bar, making sure to show off her cleavage. "It seems you've more things going for you than I gave you credit for."

  


He really hadn't been in the mood, but remembering that he had just cut off the head of her ex-boyfriend and she still wanted him . . . it was getting him in the mood. "Oh?" he asked. "Still want me after cutting off your boyfriend's head?"

  


"Still? Now I actually want you; it turned me on," she growled erotically, coming even closer to him.

  


"Really?" he said blandly, gulping down the rest of his drink. "How turned on are you?"

  


"This turned on," Mirka answered, grabbed his collar, pulled him to her and bit him on the cheek, tasting his blood, then quickly let him go. It pissed Marco off. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards, then put his left head at her throat and squeezed. He looked angrily in her eyes and saw genuine fear mixed with desire there.

  


*She tasted my blood. That's a mating practice with some animals. I guess it's one with the Klingons as well,* he grinned as he realized this, kissed her deeply and felt her press her body against his. "What d'ya say about us leaving?" he said with some anger in his tone. He saw a flicker of fear again, then it was replaced with hunger.

  


"Oh, yes, please," Mirka said. They left the bar, then he thought of something.

  


"Come on, Mirka, we've got to go do something first," he grinned at himself.

  


"What?" she asked.

  


"You'll see," he said, with an even broader, mischievous grin.

  


*****

  


It had taken her some time and several wrong directions, but finally Dana had found them; there they were walking through the alley. Death would be upon them soon, for nobody tried to kill her and lived.

  


She stepped into the alley, letting the shadows play across her. "Hello," Dana said grimly. "I told you it was a big mistake killing me . . . it's time to die." Dana was pleased, the Klingons seemed filled with terror. Not something she had expected, even though she had come back from the dead. The Klingons pulled their weapons out. Dana laughed sinisterly. "Do you really think those can kill me?" She pulled her own sword.

  


Two minutes later the Klingons were dead.

  


*****

  


Marco grinned. His instincts had led him to the right spot. There they were; three dead Klingons, each one disemboweled and decapitated.

  


*Nice work,* he thought, appreciating the carnage.

  


"Promise me on the honor of all your ancestors and all your descendants that you'll never tell anyone I did what I'm going to do," Marco whispered, looking deep in Mirka's eyes.

  


"I promise," she said. He bent down dipped his fingers in the blood and painted the symbol of the crow on the wall with it, dipping his finger back into the blood whenever there was no more left.

  


"Now we can leave," Marco grinned.

  


"I don't understand," Mirka answered.

  


"Perhaps you'll find out if you're lucky, and if one of those I told the story to, tells it to you," he answered.

  


*****

  


His hotel room

  


Marco was looking forward to fucking the Klingon slut. Then she smashed him in the face. *Ah,* he thought, *killing her boyfriend's killer using the element of surprise, eh?* It made him angry, really angry, and he smashed the back of his hand into Mirka's face. She flew backward from the impact and landed on the hard bed.

  


Mirka growled and said, "And he knows Klingon mating rituals too. You're getting better by the minute."

  


*Mating rituals?* he asked himself, then he grinned in understanding. Mirka was about to hit him. He blocked her fist and smashed his knee into her right side. He felt her rib crack and was worried that was a bit too much. Mirka, however, gave a painful, yet erotic growl. *She likes it,* Marco grinned inwardly. He twisted her arms to her back, then pushed her forward, smashing her head hard into the wall behind the bed. Then he pushed her down so her shoulders leaned on the bed, and ripped her clothes off.

  


"Take me," she growled.

  


A place where you could duel without the chance to be thrown into jail and where the women liked to be beaten up and then fucked. Perhaps he should stick around for a while. Scully wasn't scheduled to leave for another week. *Yeah,* he decided, grinning, as he plunged his erection brutally into her vagina. *Not tomorrow. I'll kill Scully in a week, see the sites, fuck the women.*

  


*****

  


One week later.

  


"She left a few minutes ago, Chairman," the girl answered.

  


"Do you know where she went?" he asked her.

  


"I'm sorry, Chairman. The Ambassador did not tell me where she went," the girl answered apologetically.

  


She wasn't at the embassy, she wasn't at his house, and she wasn't on any official business anywhere. *So where could she be?* Klarok asked himself as he stepped outside the Federation Embassy. He breathed in deeply. Wait a minute, he'd know that smell anywhere. Nobody on Q'onos wore that perfume. He grinned. He had picked up the scent, literally.

  


Klarok followed it for almost half an hour, went in the wrong direction several times, needing to double back as the scent was evaporating. He heard metal clanging to metal. He slowed his stepped and looked around the corner. There he saw something that astonished him; Josie was fighting another Human - who was easily two meters tall with thick muscles - with swords. He had thought Humans only used swords on each other for sport, for sparring, but this was none of that.

  


He saw the man rush forward rapidly, pushing Dana in the wall behind her forcefully. Dana yelled in pain, then her right foot kicked him on the insides of both his knees and he staggered back. Dana immediately made a swipe for his head, but he blocked it easily and twisted her away from him. He stood up again, wobbly for a second, but then he regained his footing.

  


"Bitch!" he yelled and attacked with a series of lightning-fast moves that she parried with equally fast moves then twisted to the side. His sword came up to protect his neck, but that was not where her swing was going; it cut through his upper arm, but not deep enough to sever it. His sword came down rapidly. She twisted aside and cut him in his side. He turned immediately, letting his sword cut through the air. She wasn't fast enough, and his sword cut through part of her arm and right breast. She winced, letting out a loud groan, but suppressed the urge to grab the wounds. His kick followed too quickly for her to block, and she flew to the ground. His sword rapidly followed. She rolled aside to her left and used his imbalance to swipe his feet from under him. A moment later they both stood once more, wearily circling each other for a moment or two.

  


Klarok was looking at them in astonishment, consciously willing his jaw shut. They were moving so fast, so fluently it could rival any Klingon, but it was done by two Humans. *You've been holding out on me, Josie,* he thought as he saw the two combatants start up again. Their blows, parries and feints followed each other rapidly. So fast, that at times their hands were nothing more than a blur to him.

  


Dana swiped at his legs. He jumped over her foot, and as he came down kicked her hard in the face. She dropped backward and quickly rolled back to her feet and ran at him. He thrust his sword forward, and she quickly twisted to her right to avoid it, making a try at his neck in the process. He quickly turned toward her and moved his body backward. It allowed him to get his sword between his neck and her sword just in time, and they clanged against each other loudly. She kicked her foot out at his exposed stomach, and he staggered backward. She attacked, and he twisted to the side and grabbed her hair with his left hand. He smashed her head into the wall to his left, then did again and again. The next time he pulled her head back he got her elbow into his stomach, after which she jumped up, grabbed his head and let her self fall down, making sure his neck smashed on her shoulder. He gurgled and choked. Dana quickly got back up, attempting to take advantage of the situation. When she came at him though, he made a quick feint and jab and managed to run his sword through her right side. They both pulled back.

  


Klarok saw Dana and the man stand back a little and expected them both to give up, or at least slow down. With those wound you couldn't fight at high speed. It would be your own undoing. He couldn't be more wrong. Only an instant did they allowed themselves reprise, then they both hefted their swords again and went at each other with even greater speed and ferocity. *What are you doing?* he thought, stricken, as he saw her clothes grow slick with red liquid. *That'll only open that wound more, you'll lose.*

  


Dana and Marco didn't care much for their injuries. Even though they hurt a lot and limited their breathing, they already felt them healing. Their swords clashed faster, and their wounds spurned them on. In their combat and with their healing, you had to. If the other would heal up faster than you, you'd be doomed. Thus you had to take every advantage you could take, even forcing your opponent to make such fast and bad - for their wounds - moves, as to slow their healing down. After two minutes they slowed down a bit - encircling each other for a few seconds - when they noticed both their wounds had healed already.

  


Dana attacked. Marco kneeled down, blocking her blow, then sliced his sword across her stomach, leaving a deep laceration just short of disemboweling her. Her rapid kick sent him down to the floor, and her sword came down with high speed. He rolled aside in the nick of time. He stood back up, where he was forced to block a blow from her. She ducked beneath his next swipe, then thrust her sword into his stomach. He quickly backed up, making sure he wouldn't be run through with her sword completely.

  


Klarok couldn't believe it. With her side getting skewered and the speed with which she had been moving afterwards, she should be on the ground bleeding to death by now, and he should have been on the ground gasping for air. But neither showed any sign of weakness nor he any sign of breathing difficultly. Now they both had severe wounds again, and yet again they started attacking each other without any sign of letting up. Klarok was impressed. Impressed was an understatement, he was in awe. He looked at them. They fought with brilliant speeds and determination, pain didn't slow them, wounds didn't seem to hurt them. This was a fight worthy of song. It was worthy of an entire opera, he decided. Then he noticed something.

  


Where was the blood? With those wounds on her she should be dripping blood all over the place. She had, right after she was wounded, but not anymore. He looked closely. For a moment her front was turned to him. Her clothes were cut, and he could see her skin . . . blood covered it, but it was definitely skin. Not a wound, but skin. This time his jaw did drop, unable to comprehend but trying to. How could there be no wound? How was it possible that the wound had already healed?

  


Klarok watched and saw Marco swing his sword. Dana duck beneath it, walking passt his right side rapidly, and cutting it open again. Marco winced but kept his mouth shut, already turning around. But he was too late. Dana pushed her sword backwards and skewered him at the height of his heart. Klarok saw Marco looking shocked at the sword point sticking out his chest, then laughed hard. Dana pulled her sword out. He dropped to his knees. With a kick she sent his sword skidding away.

  


Klarok saw her raising her sword above her head and heard her yell, "There can be only one!" Then the sword came down and severed the still laughing head from Marco's body. As his head flew through the air he still laughed for six whole seconds - of which the last four were gurgles since he had no air to move through his throat - before he stopped as his brain died. Klarok felt shivers of eeriness run through his body as he heard Marco laugh even when his head was severed.

  


He thought it was over, but then electrical sparks started sparkling on Marco's neck and a ghostly mist starting forming across his body. Then, suddenly, a lightning bolt struck Josie, and it came from Marco's body. Then another and another as the ghostly mist slowly traveled into her. The amount and size of lightning strikes grew. Now they no longer traveled into Josie alone. Some now struck the buildings that made up the back street in which she stood. Josie screamed, seemingly as much in pleasure as in pain. Then lightning strikes flew out of Josie and into nearby objects. Klarok felt tremors course through the street up through his legs. *The sewers,* he realized and a cover close to him shot upward as did several others a distance away, electrical discharges encircling the openings. Some of the lightning from Josie shot upward and into metal objects. Was he seeing things that weren't there? Or were the buildings actually shaking and rising a little? In the middle of it all Josie was kneeling, hands in the air, screaming as more strikes hit her body.

  


Then, just as suddenly as it started, it ended. The lightning strikes died down, the tremors and the winds disappeared and the buildings stopped shaking. Here and there a little electrical discharge curled around, mostly metal, objects. Klarok slowly walked to her, completely in awe, barely able to believe that what he just saw was real.

  


Dana looked up and shook her head to remove the daze from her head. She looked to her left and saw someone peeking from behind a corner. If she was right, he was Human. She gave the Watcher a one-fingered salute and a grin. He quickly disappeared back behind the building. She forced herself to her feet and looked up. She saw Klarok sauntering over to her. Astonishment could be read of his face easily.

"Great!" she muttered and walked to him, sheathing her sword beneath her coat and closing it to minimize the amount of blood people could see. Something occurred to her and she asked him softly, "How many Klingons, do you think, have seen that?"

"A few, at least," Klarok answered, still not entirely over what he saw as Dana pulled him along in the direction where he came from.

"Fantastic. I thought this place was deserted, but not only do I have my Watcher's company, but yours and some Klingons too," Dana complained as they rounded the corner he had just been hiding behind.

"What was that?" he asked.

"A Quickening," she answered.

"And what's a Quickening exactly? Better yet, who or what are you?" Klarok asked, a bit intimidated and loud.

"My real name is Dana Scully," Dana answered him softly, putting her finger in front of her lips to show him he should be soft as well. "I'm almost 330 years old. I am Human, for the most part . . . I was born Immortal, and I can not die unless somebody takes my head and with it, my power . . ."

*****

A few days later

"So you're not staying?" Klarok asked her.

"No, I'm not," Dana answered him, as she packed up her belongings.

"Not even for me?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm sorry, but I've got a daughter out there you see. I protected her life from her father, and she didn't like what I did . . . so she said she never wanted to see me again. Now she's looking for that very same father. I don't know whether it's just that my worries have grown over the past eight years, I've seen some glimpses of her in Marco's memories or a combination of both, but I must find her," Dana explained. "I'm not just leaving Q'onos, I'm leaving this job as well. Perhaps I'll even leave this identity behind.

"Mac, you'll check everything about her right?" she asked MacLeod who was leaning against the wall.

"Of course. I don't want to see anything happen to my niece, either," Duncan answered with compassion.

"Well then, I guess it's time to turn this gig back over to Dax," she stated, grabbing her bags and walking out her room.

*****

Curzon and his attaches materialized, and he walked forward, stretching out his hand to shake Scully's. She took it as he said, "Impressive handling of the situation, Josie. A little risky though."

"Sometimes risk must be taken in order to achieve a better state," Dana answered him.

"True . . . You know, this has been on my mind ever since we talked first; have we met before that time? Because you look familiar?" Curzon asked, his head in a frown, trying to remember.

Dana gave him an enigmatic smile and answered, "Not unless you're over two hundred years old."

Curzon was shocked. *Could she know?* he asked himself, *It can't be, and what did she mean by that anyway?*

Dana's communicator beeped. She pulled it out, opened it and said, "Yes."

Ambassador Taelman, are you ready to be beamed up? Kirk's voice asked, as it came through the communicator.

"Of course, Captain. You can beam me up anytime," Dana answered, and several seconds later she disappeared in a shimmering light.

~~X~~


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

  


She had spent an hour musing over Khitomer and its aftermath, telling the crew of her little Runabout bits and pieces about the legendary James T. Kirk. *I wonder,* she thought, smiling to herself, *if any of them realize they're asking questions about a dead legend to a living legend, and a cross-species, living legend at that.* It would still be several hours to the relay station and another hour before they would leave the Badlands, since the Badlands limited their speed to impulse.

  


"Captain, I'm picking up a Cardassian Galor-class warship to our port side," Ensign Kovar relayed.

  


"All stop, shut down everything; including shields," Dana ordered immediately.

  


"Aye, aye, Captain," Ensign Papen answered.

  


"Shields down," Admiral Ventura answered. The Runabout started shuddering under the stress of the Badlands.

  


"How long before the hull buckles?" Dana demanded.

  


"About half an hour," Commander Makai answered.

  


"Have they spotted us yet?" Dana demanded.

  


"It doesn't seem that way, sir. They have not altered course or speed," Lt. Palermo answered.

  


"Palermo, start converting that nice program of yours for a Cardassian vessel," Dana ordered.

  


"Aye, sir," Lieutenant Palermo answered.

  


"Are you expecting trouble?" Makai asked.

  


"I'm always expecting trouble, but to answer your intended question, I hope that ship just passes us by, that it won't see us . . . and if not, then I'm thinking, 'we did it once, we can do it again'," Dana answered her first officer.

  


"The ship has changed course and is heading right for us," Lt. Palermo announced.

  


"Make it look as if we're drifting, Ensign," Dana ordered quickly.

  


"Aye, ma'am," Hans answered.

  


"Engineering, get a transporter lock on all of us. Get ready to beam us all to their bridge the moment I say so. Everybody else, if you're not armed, make sure you are, and get ready to fight Cardassians . . . and don't bother with a stun setting," Dana ordered after tapping her communicator.

  


"The ship is getting closer. ETA five minutes," Kovar announced.

  


"Tell me the minute they enter transporter range, and when their shields are being shut down. How long before the situation becomes critical if we shut down life-support?" Dana demanded.

  


"Three minutes, sixteen seconds," Admiral Ventura answered.

  


"ETA transporter range: two minutes, forty-two seconds," Kovar answered, anticipating their needs.

  


"Admiral, shut down life-support. Make it look as if it's failing, and turn it on briefly from time to time like we're busy trying to get it back on-line," Dana ordered quickly.

  


"Got it," he answered. Immediately the heat in the cabin started to rise.

  


Dana started to sweat. "ETA transporter range: two minutes," Kovar answered calmly, not a drop of sweat on him.

  


Dana started going through the actions of the other vessel: the boarding team would be assembled, they would move to their transporter room. They would wait until they're in optimal position before they transported, if their philosophy towards this sort of thing was the same, which it was most likely so, because it was simply the most practical.

  


"ETA transporter range: one minute, thirty seconds."

  


Dana went through every possibility, everything that they might transport.

  


"ETA transporter range: one minute."

  


"ETA transporter range: thirty seconds."

  


"ETA transporter range: twenty seconds."

  


"ETA transporter range: fifteen seconds, fourteen . . . thirteen . . ."

  


Dana closed her eyes and concentrated, she would feel instantly any transporter signals anywhere in the runabout, if they did it before the time she thought they would.

  


"Twelve . . . eleven . . . ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. Transporter range, now," Kovar announced.

  


Dana waited. Mili-seconds seemed hours, hundredths of seconds seemed days, seconds seemed eternities. Time crept on ever so slowly. Dana felt adrenaline pumping through her system. She waited even longer, it had to be just right, right before the most experienced officer, except the captain, would transport over to them. "Transport!" she yelled, as she snapped her eyes open. The interior of the runabout disappeared from view . . .

  


. . .To be replaced by the interior of the Cardassian ship. To be precise, its bridge. Most of the Cardassians were stunned. "-ire!" the captain of the vessel bellowed, just as they appeared on the bridge. One and a half seconds later, the bridge lit up as the screen showed the runabout exploding in a brilliant ball of fire. By then though, most of the Cardassians on the bridge were already dead, and those that, weren't were almost dead.

  


"Guard every entrance. Make sure no Cardassian gets in here," Dana ordered as she started tapping the OPS console, beginning the beam-out process with the Cardassians in engineering. "Anybody who's left, start beaming Cardassians into space as fast as you can."

  


Over a period of five minutes, groups of Cardassians materialize in the Badlands, after which they were plasmatized by those very same Badlands almost immediately.

  


"They're all gone. Everybody to your respective stations!" Dana ordered. Some of them left the bridge immediately.

  


"Resume our old course, Ensign," Dana ordered as she placed herself in the command chair. "Perhaps this'll become even easier than I thought."

  


*****

  


Several hours later they arrived at the cone-shaped, fully automatic relay station, which meant nobody was on board all for the sake of efficiency. Having somebody on board every relay station inside your territory was madness - there were thousands of them. There are better ways to use all that personnel. It also meant it was rather easy to hijack one of them, since there was nobody on board who could shut the station down in case somebody unauthorized entered the station.

  


"Can you find this relay station's access codes in the computer, Ensign Kovar?" Dana asked.

  


A few seconds later Kovar answered, "Access codes found."

  


"Transmit them," Dana ordered, smiling.

  


"Its shields are down," Kovar stated.

  


"Good. Lieutenant Palermo you're with me," Dana said, then tapped her communicator, "Ensign Jarvis, please report to the main transporter room. Bring tools. You're going to need them."

  


"Aye, sir," Ensign Claudia Jarvis answered.

  


*****

  


"Oh, crap!" Claudia exclaimed as she got her left foot entangled in one of the many cables in the small maintenance tube.

  


"Be careful, but hurry up, Ensign," Dana told her.

  


"Yes, sir," Claudia said, looking back to her foot and seeing Dana and Palermo behind her. After a little struggling she managed to disentangle her foot, and the crawling through the relay station continued.

  


"How far, Ensign?" Dana demanded.

  


"Not very far now, sir, if I remember my Cardassian design correctly," Claudia answered, gritting her teeth. Claudia removed a panel and they crawled through, two more times did she have to do it, before they finally reached the nerve center of the station.

  


"Nice work," Dana commented. Then to Palermo she said, "Lieutenant, check te systems while I upload the viruses." Dana shoved the rod into the Cardassian computer, and started pushing buttons. Several seconds later 'Upload complete' flashed across a screen in Cardassian.

  


"That's the Dominion version, now the Cardassian one," Dana answered, tapping buttons again.

  


"Ma'am, I think I found something," Lieutenant Palermo announced.

  


"What?" Dana asked, still tapping buttons.

  


"The Dominion anticipated that this was part of our mission, they've cut off one of their warships from all communications. It has an escort of two other warships, and it's carrying the blueprints of the wormhole," Lieutenant Palermo explained.

  


"Shit! I guess we're going to have to destroy that ship," Dana stated as 'Upload complete' flashed across a screen a second time.

  


"I've got its flight-plan. It's not that far away," Palermo said.

  


"All right, we're ready here. Let's get back to the beam-out point," Dana ordered, and they started crawling back through the maintenance tubes.

  


Captain, came Makai's voice through her communicator, two Dominion warships have broken off their course and are coming right at us. They'll be here in about ten minutes.

  


"Understood, Commander. We'll hurry, and tell everybody strap themselves in. We're going to have to go hunting. Palermo?" Dana said.

  


"The Dominion has shielded a vessel with the blueprints from infection with a virus. Intercept course is 322 mark 041. They've got two escorts," Palermo explained.

  


Course is set. Anything else? Makai asked, urgency in his voice.

  


"Yes," Dana said, "Get ready for anything, strap yourselves in, allow 9 gs of gravitational force, get a transporter lock on everybody. The minute we beam over, accelerate as fast as possible. Reroute shield control to the pilot's seat, and tell Ensign Papen that I'll be taking over. This is going to require something extreme to get out of."

  


Yes, sir. Makai out.

  


"This is just like the spy holo-novels, always in the nick of time. How I wish this was just a holodeck now," Claudia said.

  


"You always do," Dana answered.

  


~~X~~

  


January, 2344

Caldos Colony

  


Dana looked across the Scotland-like landscape and felt touched, as she had been every time in the past six years that she had looked across it. She hadn't been to Scotland often, but every time she had been there she had felt as if she was stepping on Holy Ground . . . and now there was a whole planet that looked like it. Somehow, with gentle mists and rains all the through year, it had something ethereal. It seemed like the stuff of legends and myths.

  


*MacLeod must have really loved building this world,* Dana mused.

  


"Jennifer O'Connell?" a man's voice asked.

  


Dana turned around - her hair flying in front of her face courtesy of the wind - and answered, "That's me. Who wants to know?"

  


"That would be classified," the man answered.

  


"Aah, Section 31," Dana said and started walking down the hill easily. The man caught up quickly.

  


"How do you know about Section 31?" the man asked.

  


"That would also be classified," Dana answered him, taking a deep breath of the fresh air before continuing. "Let's just say that the secrets that deserve secrecy are safe with me. And Section 31 is one such secret."

  


"Three years ago you went to Romulus, and . . . succeeded in a mission for the head of the Tal Shiar," the man said delicately.

  


"Yes, that would've been me. And?" Dana asked, feeling the high grass flatten at every one of her steps.

  


"With that you've proven you're the best choice for being sent to Romulus again. We've got a mission for you which seems to also be connected to your mission three years ago," the man stated.

  


"And a perfect way to check on whose side I'm on, right?" Dana asked him, giving him a grin.

  


"To be blunt, yes," the man answered.

  


"So what's the mission?"

  


"We have intercepted this message. It has not been relayed to the recipient yet," the man said, and adding as he gave her the PADD, "What decrypted it was S179-276 SP."

  


"Ambassador Spock's old Starfleet registration number," Dana answered, understanding. She took the PADD from his hands and began to read.

  


'I would not trouble you, but there is no other choice. Honor on a certain world has been betrayed. The great cannot be trusted, nor the pyramid support its peak. Many are disgusted with Preator Dralath and at the twisting of everything Romulans hold honorable. And something dangerous is brewing, although one knows not what. A certain bloodline is hardly, after all, in the preator's confidence. _You_ must look to the security of the many.

  


- Liviana.'

  


"Ambassador Spock will verify the truth of this message with a source on Romulus, which, since we already know this message is telling the truth, will verify it is true. At which point Spock will undoubtedly leave for Romulus in an attempt to diffuse the situation," the man explained superfluously.

  


"And you want me to arrive on Romulus first so I can keep our Ambassador healthy," Dana answered him, showing that she understood what he wanted.

  


"That is correct. Will you accept?" the man asked.

  


"Yes."

  


*****

  


The red building - that was the main terminal of Ki Baratan - stood in the distance. Spock stepped out of the building. This alley held an Tal Shiar assassin. He trained his gun on Spock's chest. It took some careful aiming to hit Spock and not the many people in between, but Spock still stood on the highest steps, perfect for a bullet to hit him in the chest. The assassin grinned.

  


"Uh, uh, uh, uh, hasn't your mother ever taught you it's not nice to play with guns?" The sarcastic remark, in broken Romulan, startled him, and he whipped around, gun trained directly on the hooded figure standing deeper in the alley. He couldn't see her face. He knew it was a she from her voice.

  


"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

  


The figure took a step forward, and the hood came off. A Human face became visible. He was stunned. How a Human, without surgical alterations, managed to get on Romulus he couldn't understand. Then again, he hadn't heard or seen hide nor hair of her until she had made her presence known deliberately.

  


She grinned, a dangerous grin he noticed, and she started walking towards him slowly, and deliberately. "Guns, the perfect assassin's weapon if one knows how to use it. Long range, no sound if - like you - you use a silencer, no bright beam of plasma to betray your position, just one shot and your target is down. Everybody will be looking for obvious reasons. By the time they notice the bullet hole, you're long gone."

  


"Yeah, well this works in short range as well," he grinned menacingly, and pulled the trigger.

  


Dana felt the electrical signal coursing from his brain to his trigger finger. Immediately she jumped up while whipping her upper body backwards, starting a backwards flip. The bullet sailed over her harmlessly. Her foot kicked the gun high up in the air. She used the wide robes as air cushions to let her sail through the air. She wrapped her feet around his neck, landed on her hands and flipped him over her, smashing him on the floor. A quick, short jump backwards put her feet below his shoulders in a perfect condition to break his neck, which she did rapidly. Quickly, she stuck out her hand and caught the gun before it clattered to the floor. She looked upward, scanning the area to see if anyone in the not so far away crowd, or any of the guards, might have seen or heard something. Nothing.

  


She quickly pulled him back further into the alley, thinking, *Ninja training, you just got to love it.* She then dumped him and his rifle into the dumpster that was present there. The hood was pulled back up, hiding her face. She walked out of the alley and into the crowd, bending a little to look like an old lady.

  


"Excuse me, may I pass?" she croaked out once in a while.

  


*****

  


The high walls of Charvanek's - Liviana's - estate were rather daunting if she wasn't a trained Ninja. The tools to virtually walk up the wall were with her, but she didn't need to. She had calculated the chance that any of her staff would be traitors or infiltrated agents. The chance was too small; Charvanek had survived too long to be that lax.

  


A silent beep, a gentle vibration. She pulled out the special communicator, given to her by Section 31. The very newest of their creations, the message would piggy-back, like a virus, onto other messages until it would finally reach the relay satellites in Romulus orbit and send the message to her.

  


'Be advised, Starfleet Intelligence has sent in Commander Saavik disguised as Evaste, a colonial healer with gene-splicing abilities. Protect her as well.'

  


Dana grimaced. *Damn them! Section should have kept SI from sending anyone else! Of course, Uhura. She would defy an order, half or not, like that to keep Spock safe. This just got a whole lot more difficult. First things first, find out where 'Evaste' is. How I wish this was just a holodeck,* Dana thought, not liking this one bit.

  


*****

  


It was two days later now and finding 'Evaste' had not been difficult. Luckily the Preator had already brought her to him, which meant that the Tal Shiar either didn't know she was Saavik - *Yeah, right,* Dana thought. - or that defying the Preator's wishes was impossible. *Does Preator Dralath know? Nah, they would simply wait - until she either couldn't be allowed to continue, or she had given Dralath the cure - before eliminating her.*

  


Watching Saavik giving this scientific seminar on gene splicing therapies was almost ridiculous. Both Saavik actually giving it and her watching it with nothing more than black robes and hood to protect her identity. Surgical alterations, on account of her advanced healing capacities, were of course useless. The guards hadn't even bothered to ask her name. The sweet unthreatening old lady could never be anything else but that sweet old lady. If they'd only known who was really beneath those dark, Romulan-style robes.

  


Saavik rotated the helical projections on the display platform, then projected a simulation as modified by her prototype drugs. Spock, under the disguise of Symakhos the Academician, studied the simulation silently, as did most of the senators and the soldiers who were ordered to attend by Dralath the day before. The Romulan scientists, of course, were not.

  


"What about genetic variation?" a Romulan soldier called.

  


Dana decided to add her own. A little thrill of irony ran through her body as she called out, "Have you ruled out chance mutations?"

  


Dana's question, of course, was ridiculous. At least to her and apparently Saavik too, because she answered, "One can, by the very nature of 'chance', hardly predict what may or may not happen." Saavik spread her hands, smiled and said, "I make no claim to soothsaying abilities."

  


Dana didn't really care about the rest of the seminar, and she looked at the soldier who had called out. It was Spock's contact, Ruanek, she knew from the mission briefing. *Ouch, Ruanek. You're a soldier. You're not supposed to know about these things,* Dana thought.

  


The presentation was over, and Dana got up. She saw Spock walk to Saavik. Dana walked forward too, to get within earshot. She overheard the conversation between the two, straining her ears to hear the whispers. The things she picked up were, 'dining tonight', 'refuse', 'how else', 'not alone', 'how else' and finally the location of her suite.

  


*Good,* Dana thought. *If Spock comes there tonight, I only have to be in one location at one time. That makes things a lot easier.*

  


*Of course now I'll have to protect Saavik, not only from anyone who knows who she is but against people who don't want her to cure Dralath as well. That makes things more difficult,* Dana added as an afterthought.

  


*****

Dana was at Evaste's room, outside of it, on the outside of the building. It was dangerous since there were not many places and shadows to hide in. A voice called to Saavik and she turned back from the balcony into the room. Dana lowered herself onto the balcony and watched.

  


*Oh, no, not you Ruanek. You're an honorable man from what I've read. I don't want to have to kill you,* Dana thought, as she pulled out a throwing star, ready to end it if the time came. *Walk away, don't try to do it.*

  


*Thank god,* Dana thought as she saw Kharik - according to the briefing Ruanek's hated cousin – enter. That would remove the threat to Saavik, at least for the moment.

  


A few seconds later Ruanek and Kharik were about to start a fight when Spock and Charvanek entered the room and stopped them from fighting.

  


*That went well,* Dana thought.

  


*****

  


The night was dark. Dana sat in the garden outside the preator's office. She had just witnessed Spock apply the Vulcan nerve pinch to two guards and had maneuvered himself past security systems. She watched as he placed himself behind a stone ornament to her right. In the corner of her left eye she saw a guard walking along a path in the garden. She pulled out her Sig Saur, replicated especially for her by Section 31. She had requested it - nobody can trace the bullets unless they happen to look at Human guns from the twentieth century or know them all from memory. Plus, she was extremely familiar with it. This one was little different than the one she used four centuries ago. It had two additions - firstly a large silencer and secondly a laser sight.

  


*Come on, Spock, hide!* Dana urged silently, *You should be able to hear him.* When she noticed that Spock would not notice the guard on time, she took the shot. A silent pop and not even half a second later the guard sank to the floor. Hurriedly, but silently she sped to the dead Romulan and pulled him into the cover of the garden.

  


Dana looked at Spock, *Why had he not seen the guard?* She looked intently at him and was shocked. He was meditating. No wonder he hadn't seen nor heard the guard, but why would he be meditating now?

  


Dana looked around, making sure there were no other guards. There were none, at least not at this time. She centered herself, stretching out her sixth sense, the sense that warned her about others like her . . . A heartbeat. She twisted around swiftly but ever silently. She looked closely, and saw a little light flicker. No not a flicker, a refraction, from a little round glass of a sight.

  


*You're going to have to fend for yourself for a while, Spock,* Dana thought as she started running, making sure to encircle the assassin so she could attack him from the back. She, of course, made no sound as she ran. Finally she was behind him. It had taken not more than fifteen seconds, but those had been fifteen seconds - in every one of them the assassin could have pulled the trigger twice. Her left hand snaked around his neck, while her right clamped over his mouth.

  


"The Tal Shiar should have known, after I killed the first, that any assassin sent after Spock dies," she whispered in the gunman's ear before snapping the man's neck. Dana ran back to her old position and saw how Spock hid, just in time to be hidden from the two patrolling guards that walked by.

  


After a few minutes of not moving, Spock stood up and walked into the bedroom where Saavik and the preator should be. She followed, but not all the way inside. She waited on the balcony, looking inside. Dralath lay unconscious on the bed. The other sight chilled her to the bone. Spock and Saavik were acting too heated, too unrestrained. *No wonder he was meditating,* Dana thought. *Damn! They're going into Pon Farrr.*

  


Dana quickly disappeared back into the shadows of the garden, pulled out the communicator Section 31 had given her and whispered, "Be advised. Spock and Saavik are going into Pon Farr." The words appeared on the little screen, and she pushed the 'send' button.

  


She watched Spock leave. Saavik was still inside. What to do? Follow Saavik or Spock? They have what they came for, or Dralath would not have been unconscious. At least not unconscious and unhurt. *Saavik will leave, get the information out,* Dana thought. She wished she knew what it was. *Follow Spock,* Dana decided.

  


*****

  
  


Dana followed Spock back to Charvanek's house. *How many did the Tal Shiar send?* she asked herself. *After the death of the first assassin, surely not only one.* She decided this time she couldn't stay outside. She quickly made her way to the least guarded part of the high wall, and she ran up it using the grips on the soles of her shoes. Half-way up she jumped the last part, flipped over the wall and silently landed in the garden of Charvanek's compound.

  


She prowled the garden deathly silent, careful to avoid the sensors. There the expected assassin was, holding something in his hand. What was it? *A detonator!* Dana realized. *He's planning a small explosion, easily maskable as a gas-leak explosion.* She couldn't afford the walk toward him, he could push the button at any time. She needed to distract him. She quickly straightened up, and walked normally. She made just enough noise to get him to notice her. He looked at her. Only her eyes visible, the rest completely in the black, camouflage suit of the Ninja. She made no sound and walked at him. The silence and the fact that he could only see her eyes made the assassin nervous. He pulled a silenced gun from his belt, aimed, and fired.

  


Dana heard the silent pop after the lancing pain in her side, but - with a mild degree of difficulty - she managed to show nothing, not even a flinch. She pulled her sword from the scabbard on her back. The assassin scrambled backward, too afraid to even scream or push the detonator, as he should be. She ran her sword through his heart and grabbed the detonator from his hand before crushing it beneath her foot. She cleaned her sword of the assassin's green blood and disappeared in the shadows.

  


Charvanek and Spock left the compound with a car. She had to follow them, so she stole one of the cars that was parked in one of the side streets. She noticed they were going towards the Imperial Palace. She overtook them and drove to the Palace on her own, making absolutely sure they never noticed her. She parked the car close to where she thought Charvanek dared to go. Detection by the Preator's guards of course had to be avoided. The last part they had to walk in order to do that. Charvanek and Spock arrived, and Dana started to follow them. Ruanek arrived shortly after, talking about finding Charvanek and the disappearance of Saavik. They encountered a group of the Preator's guards. Charvanek left.

  


The squadron of guards eventually moved on. Almost two minutes later there was an explosion, almost certainly Charvanek's groundcar. *A diversion, very good,* Dana admonished only to her self. Spock and Ruanek started running, Dana followed.

  


It took a while, but finally they were here, wherever here was. They had maneuvered through alley ways, streets and whatnot rapidly. Dana watched and saw Ruanek rap a specific order of knocks on a door. Spock and Ruanek entered. Dana had a decision to make; follow them, which would require breaking down the door than incapacitating or killing the guard or guards behind it, or let Spock fend for his own. The decision was made quickly, as Spock would undoubtedly enlist the aid of the underground movement. He would no longer be virtually alone. Dana turned around. From now on, Spock would be on his own.

  


*****

  


A few days later

An nondescript bench in the main park

Night

  


Romulus's moons lighted the park in an eery light. It was all over. Dralath's plot to destroy the Klingon civilian outpost on Narendra III and then attack the Federation Melville colony had failed. Saavik had gotten the word out just in time, and the Enterprise C had helped the outpost. Narendra III was destroyed, so was the Enterprise C, but Charvanek had managed with her own ship to turn the few remaining Romulan Warbirds back and kept them from finishing their dishonorable act and attack Federation colonies as well. Preator Dralath was removed from office, and a new preator, by the name of Narviat, honorable, or so it seemed, had taken up the position. Ruanek had brought Spock to Vulcan - forcing himself to remain there as well - just in time for Spock and Saavik to mate before Pon Farr became fatal to them both. Dana would have to return soon so she could attend their wedding. Not that they knew her, but she knew them, and more importantly she knew - and knew them better - some of their friends and colleagues.

  


Dana seated herself on bench silently, "Hello, Palek."

  


Palek jerked and looked at her, startled. She smiled at him. "How do you do that? I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," he said. He looked even older than three years ago.

  


She smiled and said, "Thanks for allowing me in so easy."

  


"No problem. You were here to finish something I wanted finished anyway," Palek said, then added with regret, "I wish I had given you a shorter time span three years ago."

  


"Hindsight is always twenty/twenty," Dana said, smiling a musing smirk at him.

  


"So, is this Narviat any better?" Dana asked.

  


"Yes, but not much. Officially the Tal Shiar has always existed, it was just that nobody knew about it. Now he wants to make it a much more public organization taking over roles of the secret police, making it an organization to control Romulans and not just the enemies of the Romulans," Palek shook his head in defeat. "Officially, I may still be the Head of the Tal Shiar, but I'm no longer in control, and I'll probably be replaced soon."

  


"So from here on in . . ."

  


"All bets are off," Palek interrupted her.

  


"The circle is complete, eh?" Dana asked.

  


"I guess so. How old are you, really? Thirty-one?"

  


Dana snapped her head to the side and locked her gaze with his. Opposite of the Tal Shiar, Section 31 officially did not exist. Not even the people working for Section 31 existed. And he had known her for almost two hundred years and yet he asked her if she was 'thirty-one'. In other words, he asked if she was a Section 31 operative, and does Section 31 actually exist. She locked eyes with him and said menacingly, "In our culture it's considered impolite to ask a woman for her age."

  


He kept his eyes locked on hers, those blue eyes that promised certain death if he would ever tell a soul. He was not going to fail this test and put all his self-discipline behind his look and tried to convey to her silently that he would never tell the secret to anyone. He was just an old man, wanting this final piece of knowledge.

  


Dana finally relented and decided this time the part of her trusted him completely - as opposed to the part of her that knew he was totally untrustworthy - was given authority. "No," she answered his question, "I'm thirty-two."

  


Thirty-two was too close to thirty-one. So Section 31 really did exist, he thought almost staggering. The Tal Shiar had uncovered several clues that led to the existence of this agency, yet they were never able to come up with even one shred of evidence. Section 31 had thus become a myth in the Tal Shiar. Some of them saying that they existed, other people said that those who believed it did were delusional. Of course he would take the secret to his grave, but what about thirty-two? Why not thirty-one? It could only mean that she was not part of Section 31 but was working for them. Thirty-two, one step higher. Suddenly he understood. She must've been one of those who founded the organization. She was certainly old enough, he remembered.

  


He looked back up her. He hadn't noticed her starting to turn her head, seemingly looking for something. Now he did though, "Is something . . .?"

  


Dana held up her head to stop him. She turned around, and a male stepped through the bushes. "Well, who have we here? If it isn't Dana Katherine Scully. You're a hard woman to find, Miss Scully," the guy sneered at Dana.

  


"Well, hello, Mario. How's the neck?" Dana sneered back

  


"Still attaching my head to my body, which yours won't be doing in a few minutes," Mario Melvechi answered, pulling out his sword.

  


Dana pulled out her Katana and the swords clashed together in the silent night. After several seconds of fighting, Mario disappeared in a shimmering light.

  


"Who was that?" Palek asked, stunned, holding a little device in his hand that seemed to Dana as a portable transporter.

  


"Mario Melvechi. He has tried to kill me several times. Let him live in the battles before this one, hoping he might decide to better himself. I broke his neck last time we met," Dana explained.

  


Palek sighed wearily, not sure how he had to take that last remark. He had never thought Dana was anything other than someone with a long life span. "I wonder how he managed to get here alive."

  


"He probably didn't. He probably died several times," Dana answered him.

  


"I don't think I want to know," Palek answered. "I'm too old for this."

  


"Well, I guess this is goodbye then," Dana said, grinning at his last remark. They both knew it would be their last goodbye.

  


"Yes. Goodbye," Palek said. Both of them swallowed a lump in their throats. Dana disappeared into the shadows.

  


*****

  


Vulcan

A few days later

  


"Hello, T'Lar," Dana said as she stepped into the religious building. "Long time no see."

  


T'Lar, almost three hundred years old and Vulcan's prime religious figure, a priestess turned around slowly and looked at her. "Hello, Dana. Long time no see, indeed."

  


"It's Jennifer O'Connell these days," Dana answered, smiling and walking up to her. She held up her right hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting and said, "Live long and prosper."

  


T'Lar raised her hand in the same manner and said, "Prosper." When Dana looked at her quizzically, she added, "Wishing you long life is useless, since you're certain of long life."

  


Dana saw a little twinkle in T'Lar's eyes, and she laughed, "Let it never be said that Vulcans have no sense of humor. You've aged."

  


"And you have not. Were I Human, I'd probably say, 'Damn you.'"

  


Dana chuckled again, "But you're not Human, eh?"

  


"I take it you are here for the wedding?" T'Lar asked.

  


"What else?" Dana answered.

  


"Does Spock know you?" T'Lar asked neutrally.

  


"He knows me, but he does not know me," Dana answered.

  


"I see," T'Lar said.

  


Dana sighed. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? Since we first met, I mean."

  


"261 years, ten months, eleven days," T'Lar answered with perfect clarity.

  


"I joined the class you were in so I could learn how to suppress my emotions, forget a trauma," Dana said, wistful.

  


"You learned fast," T'Lar answered. "Although you were intrigued by the Vulcan mind meld, you never wanted to try it yourself even though other Humans did. That changed though. I can still remember the day clearly, when it did. I just happened to be alerted by the sounds of a sword fight. I followed it, and found you cutting off another man's head. And then, to quote a Human saying, 'all hell broke loose.'"

  


"After which I wanted more than just experiencing a mind meld," Dana answered, her eyes glazed over a bit. She shook her head and said, "I don't think I ever thanked you for teaching me the mind meld, and getting the Vulcan clerical council to approve it."

  


"Yes, you have, on multiple occasions," T'Lar answered, following their private little tradition.

  


"Well, at least I've never thanked you enough," Dana said.

  


"That can only you decide," T'Lar answered her logically.

  


Dana grinned, "Mind if I walk with you to the wedding?"

  


"Not at all I was planning on leaving now, you can join me," T'Lar answered her.

  


Dana looked up and slowly turned to the entrance of the building. Mario Melvechi stepped through it, sword drawn.

  


"Put away the sword!" T'Lar snapped. Dana didn't know for sure if she actually was angry or if was just an act to get Mario's attention. "This his Holy Ground," T'Lar finished.

  


"You know of us!?" Mario stated, half asking the statement.

  


"Yes, she does," Dana said, getting in between T'Lar and Mario.

  


T'Lar grabbed a communicating device and tapped a few buttons. "Not again!" Mario roared as he disappeared.

  


*****

  


Blistering heat fell on Mario's body as he reappeared in the middle of the desert, a large mountain to his right. Mario whipped his head around, fuming, and saw Dana standing there, looking around.

  


"If she had just beamed me away like your friend on Romulus did, I would've killed her," Mario stated angrily, as he put up his sword.

  


"Mount Seleya," Dana said, pointing to the large mountain behind Mario, pulling out her katana with her other hand. "The whole mountain is Holy Ground."

  


"I know, but the ground in front of it is not," Mario said, making his first lunge.

  


Dana parried it easily and looked at another mountain - smaller then Seleya, much smaller - almost two kilometers away. Even from this distance she recognized it immediately: the place where Spock's and Saavik's wedding would be held. T'Lar's message was clear; finish it quickly and you might make it to the wedding.

  


She was determined to do just that and attacked with great intensity. After two minutes, she found it had been a mistake. She was sweating profoundly and already tired, while Mario had only a few drops of sweat on his brow.

  


"I was born on Vulcan. I lived here my first twenty-four years." Mario grinned evilly as he explained and attacked with an equal intensity. Dana was forced on the defensive as she did her best to keep up with him, but she had never lived long on Vulcan. Certainly not her developing years, like Mario, and adapted to Vulcan's climate. The minutes dragged on, showing that Dana possessed a greater skill, but Mario's Vulcan adapted physiology compensated for that. Often Dana would fall down in the sand when she couldn't back up fast enough to avoid Mario's attacks. As time dragged on, Mario slowly gained the upper hand.

  


Dana finally made a desperate move. With a scream she ran straight at him and jumped. She collided with him. The desert sand didn't allow him to keep his balance, and he fell backward. Dana struggled up as fast as possible and stepped on the arm that was holding his sword. She brought her katana down, and it sliced easily through his neck. She was impressed. That was the first kill she made with the katana given to her by the Ninja. The blade worked better for her than she had ever expected, and as the lightning strikes started blasting into her she knew, that like many Immortals, she had found her sword. The sword that belonged to her, the sword that would be with her for centuries, the sword that made her complete.

  


*****

  


McCoy walked down the path back to the city, Ruanek to his left. The wedding was over. Other guests were walking there as well, either in front or behind them.

  


"So, this T'Selis is . . . beautiful," Ruanek said to McCoy. "How would one go about courting a Vulcan woman?"

  


"I think you should be very logical about it, like starting a conversation with her, preferably with 'Hello, I'm Ruanek.' I don't think saying, 'Fuck me,' will cut it," McCoy grinned at his remark.

  


Ruanek looked a bit shocked, then grinned and said, "Yeah, you're probably right . . . I think I'll go try that right now."

  


"You go, son," McCoy answered. Ruanek slowly moved off in her direction.

  


McCoy looked surprised as he saw Dana walking up the hill rather fast and sudden. She spotted him, walked towards him and started walking to his right side.

  


"Hello, Leonard," Dana said.

  


"No wonder T'Lar was expecting that lightning strike. She knows what you are, right?" McCoy asked the question very softly, hoping that none of the Vulcans were close enough to overhear.

  


"Oh yeah, we go way back," Dana said, gesturing with her hand how far back.

  


"I should say so. You were probably at her birth," McCoy remarked sarcastically, feeling awe creeping up on him. He still remembered the release of Peter Kalinsky's Quickening.

  


"Don't be silly. It's not that I'm that young, it's that she was born before First Contact," Dana grinned at him.

  


*Damn!* he thought. *If a Vulcan is listening in, he's going to think we're crazy.*

  


"You're almost as bad as those damn, green-blooded Vulcans, you know that?" McCoy snorted at her, liking their banter.

  


"Oh, no, we're worse. At least Vulcans die," Dana grinned at him. McCoy had the distinct impression that he was outmatched.

  


~~X~~

  


They stepped back onto the bridge. "Move it, Ensign," Dana said as she walked towards the pilot's seat. "Status," she demanded, as she placed herself in the pilot's seat and strapped herself in.

  


"Time to intercept shielded ship: two minutes and forty-three seconds, time for pursuers to intercept with us, two minutes and fifty-six seconds," Commander Makai answered. "This ship is at maximum speed."

  


"Well, now we wait," Dana said, drumming her fingers impatiently, looking at Hans as he strapped himself in another seat.

  


Almost two and a half minutes later Kovar called out, "Escort ships are breaking off and changing course to intercept us."

  


"Well, here we go. Everybody, hold on tight," Dana answered, as she prepared the ship for battle.

  


The two escorts came for them. They fired phasers and hit the Cardassian vessel. The ship lurched violently at the hits. Dana jerked the ship upward, going over them. Groans sounded from all over the bridge as the g-forces hit them. "Shields down to eighty-three percent!" Admiral Ventura relayed to Dana.

  


"Admiral, take out the ship's frontal shields and warp drive, but don't damage it too much," Dana ordered, lining the ship's weapons up with the targets as the ship lurched with hits coming from the four vessels behind her. The communications-silenced vessel was completely unprepared, as its crew never expected the normally low maneuverable Cardassian vessel to reach them.

  


"Frontal shields and warp drive of the target are out," the admiral said.

  


Dana swivelled the ship in a violent arch the other way to the four pursuing warships. "Admiral fire at everything with everything this ship's got, except the communications' blacked-out vessel."

  


"Aye, Captain," the admiral answered. The Cardassian vessel and the four Dominion ships who were still remaining at warp speeds all dropped out of warp. Dana ducked the ship downward. Two of the vessels followed. The ship lurched from several impacts.

  


"Shields down to forty-one percent," Kovar said.

  


Dana forced the ship into a full stop. Then as the Dominion ships zipped past them, she accelerated the ship forward. Torpedoes and phasers lanced at the Dominion ships. One showed explosions occurring along the hull. The other two Dominion vessels came at them from either side.

  


"Fire everything at the starboard vessel," Dana called, as she forced the Cardassian warship into a sharp roll, aiming its weapons systems at the mentioned warship. Mid-roll, Dana suddenly shut down the shields. The timing was perfect. Four torpedoes - two from either ship - and a phaser shot zipped past them, at places only meters away from the hull, where they normally would have impacted on the shields. Immediately after they passed, Dana raised the shields again, just in time to take the brunt of the impact from shots that came afterward. The starboard vessel, which took two Dominion torpedoes as well as weapons' impacts from their ship, exploded, sending debris flying everywhere.

  


"Shields down to twenty-percent, warp drive off-line, most primary systems are off-line, fires are spreading everywhere, no crew to put them out and fire-suppression systems are off-line, torpedo launchers inoperative, only frontal phasers left," Kovar coolly relayed.

  


"Captain, we've got the start of a warp-core breach. There's nothing I can do," Bolo's voice answered.

  


"Keep it together for a few more minutes, Bolo," she answered, dodging several shots while the ship jolted with an impact here and there. A grunt of acknowledgment followed her order. "Transporter room, get ready to beam us to the blueprint ship," Dana said and executed a daring move. She had followed the most damaged ship, the other two were behind her. As they fired, she flung the ship almost instantly into a vertical position and accelerated downward. She heard the poor Cardassian ship grunt, rupture and twist, and felt it shudder beneath her. The move worked though Two torpedoes and a phaser blast missed them and hit the Dominion ship, obliterating it instantly.

  


"Everybody get out your weapons," Dana said as she steered the vessel straight for the blacked-out Dominion warship. "Transporter room, when I give the order, transport me close to the ship's pilot console, and the admiral near the tactical console. The rest of us doesn't matter, as long as it is onto the bridge."

  


"Aye, sir," the answer from the transporter room came, as the ship bucked under another impact.

  


"Shields down to four percent, impulse power severely diminished. A third time?" Kovar answered, cool as ever.

  


"Like they say, 'three time's a charm,'" Dana muttered to him, then told everybody, "Two of you guard each entrance to the bridge, the others take care of the people on the bridge and get ready for if they beam Jem'Hadar onto the bridge," The determined silence told Dana they were all ready.

  


"Shields are down," Kovar answered, as almost everything on the bridge started to burn or sizzled.

  


"Transport!" Dana shouted, as she grasped the hilt of her katana on her back. They disappeared in an orange light, right before the whole ship disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

  


*****

  


"We've got them!" the Vorta yelled in triumph. Then his face paled as he saw twenty-five orange shimmering cones materialize into Humanoid forms. Two of them dropped to the floor, either unconscious, or dead. The next thing he knew, was a searing pain his chest and then nothing.

  


Scully ran her sword though the surprised Jem'Hadar soldier at the pilot's console and pushed him aside as she pulled her sword from him. He dropped dead to the floor. She turned the ship to bear down upon the remaining two Dominion Warships, using only the sensor readouts.

  


*That's right what to do now, eh? You can't destroy this ship, since you can't destroy the blueprints contained in it,* Scully thought, as she saw the last of the Jem'Hadar fall. One more Federation casualty could be added to the list, bringing it to three dead. Some of her crew were injured. The doctor started to tend to them as the rest all took up tactical positions. She heard phaser fire from behind her. Obviously fighting had broken out at the doors.

  


Dana laughed as she looked at the readouts she made appear with a few punches of buttons. Power levels were rising, including in the shields. "Sometimes you've really got love the Dominion's philosophy of no information. They're still repairing the shields and warp drive," Dana said out loud. Admiral Ventura luckily wasn't sleeping, and he fired a deadly volley at one of the two hesitating Dominion ships. It broke apart and exploded. The second learned its lesson and moved off. Dana followed it while the Admiral fired the ship's weapons at it.

  


Shimmering lights appeared on the bridge, but her crew was ready and phasered the Jem'Hadar soldiers down. One of them got of a lucky, shot and the fourth dead could be added to the list.

  


Dana decided - and so seemed the Admiral - to finish this. She banked the Dominion ship sharply in anticipation of the other ship's most likely movement. The ship was lined up for shots crossing its path. Four torpedoes and three quick phaser bursts destroyed the last ship. Scully stepped over to the operations console quickly and tapped in the same combination of keys she did the first time. The dead bodies of the Jem'Hadar and Vorta disappeared from sight. Dana turned on one of the small screens and saw them floating amongst the debris field of the four destroyed ships. No reason to vaporize them now.

  


"Ensign Papen, set a course for the Badlands. Bolo, get this ship up and running," Scully ordered as she walked to a side console.

  


"Aye, sirs," sounded. The bridge hustled with activity as most of them scrambled to get off it. She used the console to read the isolinear rod's information and downloaded the virus into the computer.

  


Dana removed the little screen and said, "Commander, you've got the bridge. I'll go check and see if there are any Changelings on board and if there are any hard copies of those damn blueprints."

  


"Yes, sir," answered Makai.


	12. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

  


They were traveling back through the Badlands. The ride back, until now, had not been eventful. That was about to change.

  


"Oh, shit!" Hans exclaimed as he frantically started pushing buttons.

  


"What is it?" Dana asked as she saw a strange sight in the little screen in front of her eye.

  


"The little damage in our port warp nacelle in combination with the violent nature of the Badlands is causing a wormhole to form . . . correction, causing a wormhole to open. The hyper-space tube was already there," Kovar answered neutrally.

  


"Can you avoid it?" Dana asked as she finally recognized the round mouth of a wormhole forming, pulling nearby Badlands plasma with it. Somehow the Badlands were slowing the process of the opening wormhole.

  


"Plasma storms are appearing on every side. The pull of the wormhole is growing exponentially. I can't shake loose. No, Captain, we're going in," Ensign Papen answered frantically. "I suggest we brace ourselves."

  


The ship shook violently as it entered the wormhole. Then the ride smoothed as they entered the wormhole deeper. Wisps of plasma, without a doubt pulled inside from the Badlands, were visible in the little screens, hanging in front of Makai's and Dana's eye. The swirling tunnel of energy kept their attention away from the plasma though. It was almost painful to her eyes.

  


"The entrance has closed behind us," Kovar stated.

  


"The exit!" Dana exclaimed, "Full speed ahead. Everything this ship's got. How's the exit, Ensign Kovar?"

  


"Analyzing. Exit is showing signs that it is ready to collapse. Our present speed will not be enough to exit this wormhole in time," Kovar said neutrally.

  


"Shut everything down. Reroute everything to propulsion. Shut life support down where it isn't necessary. Reroute the crew to as little places as possible!" Dana ordered. The ship increased in speed. She could see the wormhole speeding past her faster, a little black, shrinking spot in the middle indicated the exit.

  


"Present speed is still not sufficient for exit," Kovar said.

  


Dana tapped her communicator, "Everybody strap yourselves in, and if you can't, sit against a wall, the less you can move the better off you'll be."

  


Everybody on the ship did what she told. One they were all strapped in, Dana tapped her console as she said, "I'm going to the lower the Inertial Dampeners. They're the only thing left and they limit speed in themselves." At first everybody looked at her stricken, then they turned back, knowing that there was no other way. The number of g-forces she allowed the ship to pull was twenty-five. The ship jumped forward and Dana felt every bone in her body crack. It was difficult to breathe. She heard screams of anguish and pain fill the room.

  


"Speed . . . not . . . enough," Kovar managed to croak out.

  


Dana increased to thirty g's. More screams of extreme pain reached her ears. She ignored them. A few seconds later, even Kovar was unconscious. Dana had to ignore the pain, not let herself slip into the welcoming embrace of darkness. Four hundred years of practical experience, and a constantly regenerating physiology were the only things that allowed her to do just that.

  


Then the ship plunged past the exit, and the wormhole closed behind them. Dana brought all the systems back up with difficulty, pain lancing through her body as she did so. Then she made the ship come to a halt and started transmitting a standard Federation distress signal.


	13. Epilogue 2

_Epilogue 2_

  


Dreamland 2

(Section 31 Headquarters)

  


Admiral Brand, head of Section 31, read the report on his computer screen. She had succeeded. Both the wormhole and all copies of blue prints and references to it were destroyed. He smiled. That was good. What was not so good was the fact that she and her crew still had not returned. He dismissed it. Nobody had expected them to get even this far. Besides she would show up, even if it was after a few millennia of floating aimlessly through space. The thought made him look at his right wrist. The familiar blue tattoo smiled back at him. This in turn made him notice his Admiral's bars on his sleeve; the promotion was given to him only a few months ago.

  


"Access file: Samantha Brown. Authorization: Brand, Alpha, Alpha, Omega, Omega," Brand said, using the access code that belonged to the head of Section 31 for the past two hundred years; a second code given to him on the day that he became the head of Section 31.

  


"Access granted," the familiar female computer voice stated, and Samantha Brown's file was released. The picture, however, was not hers, Brand new. It was a cover to protect her true identity. Dorff had gotten so close. Brand still shuddered at the thought of it. Paul luckily had picked up and played along, making Dorff believe that only Samantha Brown had access to her own file.

  


He punched a few buttons, and the briefing he got on his first day played before him once more. This woman was Samantha Brown, or more exactly Dana Katherine Scully, four-hundred-plus-year-old Immortal. The first few years he hadn't noticed a thing, but then shifting through historic files and present-day news reports as he his job required, he recognized certain anomalies, not in the last place that some of the pictures resembled the same woman giving the taped briefing now running on his computer screen. Eventually he had the computer run comparisons, and the computer had confirmed his suspicions: they were the same. Then he had started actively looking into her, and a few days later the symbol that now adorned his wrist had popped on his screen with a message from Admiral Stevens to meet in person. Three days later he was given the tattoo and official status as Watcher. He had joined only after demanding that he would not be made to use Section 31 actively to monitor Immortals. If information about Immortals came his way it would be relayed to the Watchers, but that was all.

  


The briefing could still cause chills to run down his spine. It entailed the hidden agenda of Section 31: protect this secret and protect the Federation from what the secret entailed at all costs. An agenda of which only Section 31 agents were aware of. *And certain Immortal founders of this agency,* Brand added wryly to himself only. The genetic structure of the Purity virus showed on his screen. The deadliest virus ever created. It was not so much a virus as an oily substance which entailed the virus. Its incubation period: several seconds. Its effects: override infected patients' self-preservation drive with the drive to protect and complete the virus' purpose: the growth of a bio-genically engineered exterminator with the virus/oil as its blood with the patient acting as a living incubator. Depending on body heat and environmental temperature the exterminator will, as far as is known, hatch within six to forty-eight hours.

  


Next was the description of the exterminator: intelligent but not sentient with a simple programming. First: procreate by killing suitable life forms and let virus grow new exterminators from the life form's bio-mass. Second: exterminate all Humanoid life forms with the exception of its creators. Its hide was armored, almost to the point of bullet proof with sharp pointed extensions. And they learned. If you build ships, they would learn how to use those ships against you soon enough.

  


Next was the explanation of the secret war that had been fought throughout the latter part of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. And a theory where the so-called 'aliens' came from, ending with their final destruction. Then the truly frightening part, the part where it was revealed that some had managed to avoid destruction and managed to escape the Sol system and were directly responsible for the start of the Romulan - Earth war. The big point was, of course, that if one group managed to escape, a second could too and there was not enough information from the Romulans to know for certain that the first group of escapees had truly all been destroyed. And then of course there was virtually no knowledge at all about the original creators of Purity which had crashed upon the Earth about fifty thousand years ago. There was only sketchy and questionable information that Purity was about a hundred million years old. Enough time for the asteroid that brought it to Earth to travel from the nearest galaxy, but Brand doubted that it came from another galaxy; most likely it had simply spent millions of years in one or multiple solar systems until something had catapulted it free from the star's gravity once more. If Brand had to take a guess, he would estimate the age at about ten million years. But he had no idea of what had happened to its creators. Most likely they had lost the war that had prompted the creation of the virus, but how completely? And even if they were extinct, could Purity still be simmering on their home planet somewhere, waiting for someone to land there and infect?

  


Then came the description of the other bio-genically engineered creatures the 'aliens' had used. Among others a deadly and virtually immortal shape-shifter, the race that had made the Romulan - Earth war possible after infiltrating the Romulan military and intelligence systems. They were however all wiped out, and even if they weren't, after two and a half centuries they would die of old age which effectively eliminated their threat by now.

  


Finally the briefing came to its last part, the hidden directive, only known to Section 31 operatives: the Purity Directive. Upon detection of the Purity virus, the Purity Directive will become active. All other directives and protocols including the Prime Directive will be temporarily disbanded while the Purity Directive is active. (Added note 2268 by Admiral Trevor Mason, Head Section 31: the Omega Directive forms an exception. The Omega Directive has been deemed Purity Directive's equal, if some day both directives become active at the same time, both directives should be pursued with equal fervor.) Purity Directive: destroy all instances of Purity virus, with the exception of known locations throughout the Sol system, at all costs.

  


Brand agreed with that assessment; the known locations were on Earth somewhere under the pyramids, the dark side of the moon and beneath the renovated Cydonia region of Mars. (Of course everybody thought that they were nothing more than natural formations on which now the Human built face and city were residing. Brand grinned as he remembered the part of the Level 35 files - as he had started calling them - in which the same immortal Dana Scully had said, 'When they asked me what to do with the most prominent Mars features that couldn't be hidden under the vegetation formed by the Mars terra-forming project, I told them, "They want a face, give them a face."') Each location was deep beneath the surface of said celestial bodies, and the chance that some of the virus might escape and infect the non-Human, and thus non-immune, members of their community if they should try to destroy those stashes, was simply too great. Sensors in starships were programmed to ignore the virus when they were in the Sol system. When Brand thought about that he thought wryly, *If a starship ever detects Purity outside Sol and activates the Purity Directive its captain will get a rude awakening, whether he's asleep or not.*

  


Not to mention myself, he added, while turning off the computer and thinking of the message that would immediately be dispatched to him should it ever happen. He walked to the window and looked out over the plain that was part of Dreamland 2. A few tourists walked across it, having no idea that inside the mountain resided the best kept secret of the Federation. With a shudder running down his spine, Brand thought, *I hope the Purity Directive never ever becomes active.*

  


_The End_

  


Author's notes: So tell me what you think of it. To Be Continued in 'Two Little Ships, Far Far Away'. (Hey I couldn't keep Dana walking around bald, I had to give her, her hair back.) But first. Anybody who has read the 'Double Helix' books, didn't you think as well, that General Thul seemed a bit small, a bit too less evil, a bit too short lived, to pull off, what he supposedly did. Well, I did. Building a Dyson's Sphere (even though it wasn't a true Dyson's Sphere, but big none the less) in only thirty years, and designing the virus in the same time, just didn't seem in conjunction with the rather small ambition of only destroying the Federation. I think there was somebody bigger, more evil, behind Thul lurking in the shadows. Somebody with a longer life line . . . So the next story will be Double Helix book 7: The Final Solution.

Comments to 3d.master@chello.nl


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